When Cha Eun-soo disappeared—and when Shim Tae-seong realized it—he felt as though he were reliving a horrific nightmare. He was certain that someone who had broken protocol had taken Cha Eun-soo.
Had he approached the situation with reason, it was a conclusion he never would have drawn.
Without hesitation, he sought out Joo Cheong-gyeong. The air between them crackled with tension, as if a fight was about to break out under the weight of Shim Tae-seong’s barely restrained killing intent. But Joo Cheong-gyeong quickly realized what Shim Tae-seong was after.
“…So who’s really the one searching for whom right now?”
The moment he grasped that Cha Eun-soo had gone missing, Joo Cheong-gyeong’s eyes flared red with rage. At that sight, the heat that had surged in Shim Tae-seong’s head began to cool into something sharp and cold. They loathed each other, but they both knew just how bitterly difficult it had been to form this alliance in the first place. There was no longer any need to pretend restraint.
Still, the odds that another faction had kidnapped Cha Eun-soo…
The memory resurfaced—Eun-soo’s plea, asking just once to be allowed to see Seo Junho. That face, fraught with guilt and anxiety, came back to him with a painful sting. He had flatly denied that desperate request. What if Eun-soo had left of his own accord?
But how?
No matter how many possibilities he considered, they all led to the same conclusion: Cha Eun-soo had retained the power to escape.
Then why hadn’t he fled before?
That natural follow-up question fizzled almost immediately. Right now, the top priority was simple: get Cha Eun-soo back.
Joo Cheong-gyeong felt the same. Rather than hurl the venomous accusations he was no doubt burning to deliver, he threw himself into the search. He combed through the hospital and the individuals Shim Tae-seong had pointed out, tearing apart the minds of the possessed for clues. Seo Junho, the medical staff in charge of him, the hospital director, the government officials—he traced the unbroken chain of thoughts and memories from one person to the next, and those fragments eventually led him straight to the target.
When he saw, through one doctor’s memories, Cha Eun-soo coughing up blood and collapsing, his vision turned red with fury—but they had caught up in time.
“If they didn’t notice his movements, that probably means he has some sort of teleportation ability,” Joo Cheong-gyeong muttered, arms crossed. Shim Tae-seong, who had been silently keeping watch by Cha Eun-soo’s bedside as the latter lay hooked up to a mess of IV lines, slowly turned his head to look at him.
“On top of that, he’s got healing powers—and even detoxification?”
He might be hiding even more than that.
It was almost laughable how absurdly capable he was. Not just versatile—exceptional. Unlike them, he possessed a power humanity, in desperate need of detoxification, would practically revere.
If word of today’s events got out, predators would come swarming in from every direction. The mere fact that he was an S-rank Guide was enough to warrant keeping him hidden away from the world. Yet Cha Eun-soo had, in the worst way imaginable, revealed a different kind of worth—and in doing so, had exposed himself completely.
“But every time he uses his powers, he ends up wrecked like this. He probably knew he’d be caught anyway, so he didn’t even try to run.”
Joo Cheong-gyeong tapped his elbow and nodded thoughtfully.
Shim Tae-seong looked down at Cha Eun-soo again. His complexion had improved significantly compared to when he’d been recovered, and that brought him a small sense of relief. Would things have turned out better if he’d just let him meet Seo Junho back then?
“So?”
A voice rang through the room, low and echoing like it came from the depths of a well. Footsteps followed, and Jang Hee-gang slowly stepped in through the cracked door. Joo Cheong-gyeong’s eyes shifted toward him from where he leaned against the wall, but Shim Tae-seong didn’t spare him even a glance.
Tilting his head, Jang Hee-gang asked, “Is this some kind of emergency meeting?”
The still air was laced with sharp tension. A web of wariness hung between them, drawn tight like a noose ready to snap.
“Feels more like a tribunal to punish someone for failing to protect a life.”
“Don’t get smart.”
Cha Eun-hyuk brushed past him and stepped into the room.
His glare, filled with a quiet but dangerous fury, was locked on Jang Hee-gang. How dare he even think like that, especially here and now? He couldn’t allow even the slightest possibility that Cha Eun-soo would be put at risk.
The killing intent in his eyes melted as he turned his gaze toward the brother lying in bed, replaced by worry and unease. Cha Eun-hyuk hurried to the other side of the bed, opposite Shim Tae-seong, and gently placed his hand over Eun-soo’s, careful not to disturb the needle inserted there.
Joo Cheong-gyeong shot him a glance that screamed how pathetic, but he was the one who had called them all here—whether he liked it or not.
“It hasn’t been officially confirmed that he’s a Guide on par with this one, but I’d say Eun-soo’s worth is already equal to, if not greater than that.”
“They’ll come at him like leeches—relentless and annoying.”
Jang Hee-gang twisted his lips as he stared at Cha Eun-soo. The boy’s long eyelashes cast shadows over his eyes, not so much as a twitch to show he was conscious. His complexion wasn’t terrible, but his neck and fingers looked far too thin.
It was almost laughable how none of them had seriously probed whether Eun-soo possessed some remaining special ability. And that he’d managed to keep such secrets hidden all this time? Absolutely adorable.
“Which brings me to this… I’m starting to wonder if we really need that fancy title.”
Joo Cheong-gyeong straightened up.
“Why are we even clinging to this whole ‘Association President’ joke in the first place? It’s all because of Eun-soo.”
Being the head of the Esper Association was a convenient position. For him and Jang Hee-gang, it gave them real control over Espers, helped dull their past selfish desires to a degree, and—most importantly—it was a tool to protect Cha Eun-soo. The authority that came with the title made it easy to keep Espers from all over the world in check. No one else had a better excuse to exterminate monsters and build a safe haven.
But that didn’t mean the role itself was indispensable. Even without that badge of power, everyone in this room had the means to live however they pleased. So days like today…
Given everything that’s happened… maybe it’s time to shed the ill-fitting costume of a so-called hero. If they could dismantle and seize control of the factions that were targeting Cha Eun-soo first…
“That’s not going to happen.”
Shim Tae-seong, who had sensed the dangerous proposal Joo Cheong-gyeong was about to make, cut in. His gaze never left Cha Eun-soo’s face.
“He wouldn’t want that.”
“Who wouldn’t…? Eun-soo?”
Joo Cheong-gyeong’s eyes widened. Then, he let out a scoffing laugh that almost sounded cheerful.
“Wait, seriously? Has any Esper in this room ever acted in accordance with what Eun-soo wanted?”
They’d imprisoned him, taken what they pleased, dragged him into hell. Every one of them had used him to satisfy their own desperation and selfishness. No one was innocent.
“If we really had, he wouldn’t be lying there right now. Don’t try to act righteous, Tae-seong.”
“….”
“Let’s just co-exist. That’s all we need. Everything else that gets in the way—we clear it out in advance.”
“You’re going too far.”
Cha Eun-hyuk’s voice was low and composed.
“There’s no need for that. We just need to be more careful going forward.”
“Oh? And what, you’ve got some kind of plan?”
Though Joo Cheong-gyeong’s tone was openly confrontational, Cha Eun-hyuk remained calm.
“As long as there’s more than one set of eyes watching him, that should be enough.”
“…What did you just say?”
Joo Cheong-gyeong’s sneer cracked ever so slightly. From the sidelines, Jang Hee-gang, who had been silently observing, rubbed his chin with amusement.
“What, are you suggesting we all shack up together?”
“Yeah. If we want to strengthen protection, there’s no reason we can’t.”
“You’re insane.”
Even right now, with just the few of them in one room, the air was thick with instinctual killing intent. And now they wanted to live together? Joo Cheong-gyeong thought it was completely absurd.
And yet… he also knew there were advantages to it.
If they stayed together, they wouldn’t be separated.
Honestly, it was hard to say which feeling would be worse: the moment he parted ways with Cha Eun-soo again, or the sickening sense of watching him live side-by-side with others.
He’d assumed the latter would be unbearable, which was why he’d agreed to share in Eun-soo’s protection in the first place. But now…
Even if he didn’t want to admit it, a voice inside whispered that this might actually be the better option.
Joo Cheong-gyeong fell silent, an unreadable expression on his face.
Shim Tae-seong clenched his fist tightly. He was fully aware that they were still treating Cha Eun-soo like an object, like a thing to be monitored and controlled. But none of them felt the need to change that. Continuing this discussion under the guise of protection—it felt deeply unethical.
“I agree.”
And yet, as he always had, he went along with it.
“And there’s something else all of you should know.”
If even after hearing this, the monsters blinded by obsession with Cha Eun-soo remained unchanged in their behavior, then he would have no choice but to face life-threatening conflict—prepared to intervene in everything, no matter the cost.
***
…What the hell? Something about side effects from overusing divine powers in a human body, wasn’t it?
He’d cursed out of sheer frustration when he’d collapsed, drenched in blood, but now that he was thinking it over more slowly… maybe it wasn’t entirely incomprehensible. Basically, it meant he had access to power—just not the freedom to use it. Because his body was still just a fragile human one… Fucking kind-hearted goddamn Blue.
His eyes felt dry, like he suddenly developed chronic eye strain for the first time in his life. His body was so heavy it scared him—he wasn’t even sure he could move. His insides burned with a raw, searing pain, and his throat stung like it had been scraped raw.
With great effort, he twitched his fingertips and forced his eyelids open. His vision was blurry.
A hazy silhouette hovered in front of him—someone watching over him.
“Eun-soo.”
A low voice, slightly trembling, called his name. A cool, firm palm cupped his cheek.
