“Tonight, it’s my treat! Wahaha!”
In the cozy private room of a small Japanese restaurant, the sound of clinking glasses was accompanied by a wave of cheerful laughter.
“Whooo!”
“Applause!”
“You’re the best, Director!”
It was, without exaggeration, a historic day.
Director Shin had gathered a small group of researchers who, like him, had been agonizing over Yoo Ji-ho, to celebrate the unprecedented stability of Ji-ho’s wave pattern.
It might’ve been a small gathering, but to them, it felt like a monumental event. The director had even used his authority to let everyone off work early just for this.
In truth, the early leave wasn’t entirely celebratory. It had been a reactionary move—Director Shin had heard Yoo Ji-ho was on his way, panicked, cleared out his office, and scrambled to throw this get-together in a hurry.
“Now that there’s someone who’ll be glued to his side, I’m off the hook!”
“You must feel so relieved, Director.”
“Hehehe.”
On the verge of gaining his long-awaited freedom, Director Shin was practically glowing. At the same time, though, there was an itch of unease he couldn’t ignore.
—Where are you right now?
“I don’t know, you bastard. You’ve got a Pair now, so deal with it.”
And with that final call cut off, Yoo Ji-ho had gone completely silent. It was odd. Should he go into hiding for a few days?
Suddenly curious, Director Shin turned to Dr. Na Hye-yoon, who had been steadily nursing his drink since the start of the evening.
“Right, that Guide. How’s he looking? I heard he’s a B-rank rookie, which is a bit disappointing. Think he’ll be obedient enough?”
“Yes. You once said something else was more important than rank when it comes to handling Yoo Ji-ho. I didn’t understand what you meant at first, but once I looked into the Guide’s profile, it all made sense. He fits exactly what we’ve been looking for.”
“Really? He different from the others in some way?”
“He majored in Supernatural Management Studies and was planning to go to grad school. Found out about his Guiding ability during an experiment and applied to the center right away. His wave output was so weak they didn’t even know he was a Guide until recently. Still, he graduated top of his class this term. I called his temporary team leader on Guide Team 6—she said his conduct is impeccable. Very polite and proper.”
Director Shin looked surprised. Na Hye-yoon had dug up a lot of info in a short amount of time. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one having fun at this dinner.
“Really? Interesting. With that major, could he be your junior from school?”
“He is. I couldn’t just rely on what one team leader said after working with him for a month, so I checked his academic records and reached out to some people. They say he’s sincere, gentle, and overall seems like a great fit for someone like Yoo Ji-ho. Most importantly, he doesn’t have any family. That drastically lowers the risk of any information leaks.”
“He does sound like a good candidate from our side.”
Director Shin nodded and filled his empty glass. In the world of Espers and Guides, being without family wasn’t necessarily a tragic backstory—especially for someone like Shin, who had been working at the center for years.
“His family, was it… a Gate incident?”
“Not directly.”
“I see.”
Without any dependents, a superpowered individual becomes far more ‘useful’ from the government’s point of view. And if someone who survived a Gate incident dreamed of becoming an inspector, that likely meant they carried a strong sense of duty too.
Raising his glass, Director Shin muttered absentmindedly,
“But I wonder… from the Guide’s point of view, is this really a good deal?”
“No. It’s a complete disaster.”
Cough!
Of all times, the alcohol went down the wrong pipe. Director Shin hacked and coughed for a while, then, flushed in the face, snapped irritably.
“Come on, do you know how much we’re paying him? And Ji-ho’s not that bad!”
“Do you really believe that?”
“No.”
The two men fell silent, their expressions sinking simultaneously as they both looked down at the table.
Work talk had crept into an otherwise pleasant dinner, and the mood suddenly turned solemn.
“……”
“……”
“……”
The other researchers, who had been watching them closely, started whispering among themselves again, pretending not to listen.
Director Shin downed another bitter shot and sighed.
“Dr. Na, we’re giving this rookie B-rank Guide some pretty exceptional terms. Isn’t that enough?”
“Honestly, even if we throw in hazard pay and a full life-risk allowance to the point where he’s making as much as you, I doubt he’d last a month.”
“What? It’s that bad?”
“Director…”
Dr. Na let out a short sigh at his boss’s cluelessness.
“I’ve said this before: you can’t just slap a Pair label on someone and call it a day. If this is going to last, Yoo Ji-ho has to cooperate.”
“Well, how the hell do you get him to cooperate?”
“That’s something you need to figure out.”
Cold-hearted bastard. Director Shin sulked as he picked up a piece of sashimi, only to freeze at the sound of a shrill ringtone.
Of course, the name flashing on the screen was: Yoo Ji-ho.
“Damn it.”
After a brief moment of indecision, Director Shin pressed decline.
And the instant his finger left the screen—
SLAM!
“AHHH!”
“Holy crap…!”
“Oh, shit!”
Amid the gasps and curses, the sliding door flew open without anyone touching it. Standing there, bathed in cold air and exuding beauty from his profile, was none other than Yoo Ji-ho.
He stood in the doorway, gaze sweeping the room, then spoke in a calm, almost polite tone.
“Everyone looks like they’re having a good time.”
The party instantly froze. Yoo Ji-ho’s eyes locked straight onto Director Shin’s pale face.
“Why didn’t you answer? You weren’t in your office either.”
“You—did you know I was here?”
“Yes.”
“Then why call?”
“Wanted to see if you were ignoring me on purpose.”
“……”
Watching Shin’s stunned face, Ji-ho let out a dry laugh and continued.
“You know what I hate most in the world? Chasing people down. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing all day.”
Tearing his eyes away from the trembling Director, he offered a sharp smile to the researchers frozen in place.
“Sorry for the interruption. I urgently needed to speak with the Director.”
His apology was as empty as his tone.
“Please, don’t let me stop you. It’s a special occasion, right? Finding Yoo Ji-ho’s Pair Guide and all. Congrats, right?”
“Ah, yes, thank you, Esper-nim…”
“Thank you…”
“Thank you…”
As Ji-ho’s gaze moved on, the researchers instinctively turned their eyes to Director Shin—who now had the awkward honor of having everyone looking at him. After thoroughly chilling the mood, Ji-ho exited just as smoothly. Smug bastard.
“That damn cat-like little… ugh!”
As Director Shin reluctantly got to his feet, Dr. Na leaned in with a grim whisper.
“Convince him. No matter what it takes.”
“…Yeah, yeah, I got it.”
His voice lacked conviction.
Outside, Ji-ho had all but dragged Director Shin to his car, which was parked in a dark, secluded spot.
Now, Shin stood uncomfortably by the passenger side.
“Aren’t you getting in?”
Ji-ho, already inside, barked out impatiently. Shin hesitated.
The moment I get in, how much shit is he gonna throw at me?
He opened the door, climbed in, and closed his eyes as the car smoothly pulled away.
“What’s so damn great that you’re all getting drunk about it?”
“……”
“You people getting off on the fact I touched a Guide? Is that what it is?”
His voice was soft, but it grew tighter with each word.
“What are you, a bunch of pervs? Celebrating over some punk grabbing my hand while I was unconscious?!”
“Ji-ho…”
“I’m not accepting this. What happened today—I’m not okay with it. Understand?”
“You’re angry, I get that. But you know the Guide didn’t do anything wrong. We agreed—if it worked, we’d make them your Pair.”
“Then bring him in and have him do it again. Let’s double-check. Bet I’ll feel disgusted this time.”
“Really now.”
Director Shin, who had been soothing Ji-ho like an answering machine, suddenly turned toward him.
“Let’s hear it, then. Your thoughts. First time experiencing Contact Guiding—how’s the body? Feels lighter, doesn’t it? Still hearing the tinnitus? Your complexion looks damn good.”
“……”
Eyes forward, face still furious, Ji-ho said nothing. That silence said everything. Shin could barely keep the smug grin from ripping his face apart.
“How can you be so sure you’ll hate it the second time? Especially when the data proves what we already agreed on?”
“……”
“Hehe, come on, let’s bring him in tomorrow, make it official! What was his name again? Hae-won?”
“Forget it ever happened.”
While Shin was gleeful, Ji-ho’s voice turned cold, as if biting off each word.
“I said, forget it.”
“Not a chance, you brat. You think this kind of opportunity comes twice? Even I know better than that.”
“Ha…”
“You didn’t hurt him or anything weird, right? Didn’t try to strangle him again or something?”
“I didn’t.”
Ji-ho, unusually defensive, looked genuinely upset.
“I didn’t. I was asleep, and he grabbed my hand, and then he just left. I couldn’t even get a word out.”
“Not even one word?”
“Now that I think about it, fuck, this pisses me off.”
“……”
The shift in the air was sharp and immediate. Shin’s grin faded.
“You know what really pisses me off? My body feels better—but I feel like shit. And because I’m in a clearer state of mind, I can feel that shittiness even more. You know what that’s like?”
Right. Shin had briefly forgotten—his job right now was to convince Ji-ho.
“Of course you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be making this goddamn ask.”
“But you said you were okay with it…”
“I didn’t think it’d be like this. Didn’t think it’d go the way you wanted. Why the hell did I even fall asleep? Now I just feel fucking gross, Director.”
“……”
“You want me to keep doing that? Pressing skin with strangers? I’d rather drown myself in a puddle. Hell, better to lose control in the mountains and die that way.”
After enduring a Guiding session he’d always despised, Yoo Ji-ho was now in peak physical condition—and throwing the most spectacular tantrum of the decade.
“Fuck, the more I think about it, the worse it gets. Fuck!”
What if the Guide saw this… and ran away?
Director Shin’s pupils trembled like steam valves about to burst.
