After finishing the task he’d received earlier from Director Shin, Dr. Na Hye-yoon had been sitting in silence. Now, after a long pause, he finally opened his mouth.
“…I’ll be heading out now. You two should talk freely.”
“Yes.”
“Ah—goodbye, Doctor.”
Dr. Na left in a rush, as if important duties were waiting for him elsewhere. Just like that, only the two of them were left in the hushed quiet of the Director’s empty office.
Relieved by the gentle, relaxed expression on Yoo Ji-ho’s face, Hye-seong mustered the courage to speak.
“I heard… you were the one who personally chose me as your Pair Guide…”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Wow. It’s true…”
Hye-seong gave a small nod. He’d asked Dr. Na more than once, but hearing it from Yoo Ji-ho himself made all the difference.
“I just had a good feeling. Something about you made me think it’d work out.”
“Whoa…”
It would’ve been perfect if he’d called me by name… Still, the fact that Yoo Ji-ho was speaking to him directly didn’t change. He’d probably learn his name in time.
It’s real. Yoo Ji-ho actually chose me!
Already overwhelmed with emotion, Hye-seong barely had time to react before Yoo Ji-ho spoke again.
“There’s just that feeling, you know? Like you can trust someone—just instinctively.”
“…Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
“…”
Hye-seong froze like he’d forgotten how to breathe, then finally dropped his head. The sudden gesture made Ji-ho tilt his head slightly in confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
“…”
“…Ah. Did I say something weird again?”
While Ji-ho murmured to himself, Hye-seong slowly lifted his head.
“I’ll do my best not to disappoint you. I’ll become a Guide you can truly count on. I’m not sure I’m good enough yet, but I’ll do everything I can to be someone worthy of working with you.”
“…You really do inspire confidence.”
Ji-ho’s voice was warm. He gazed into the distance briefly, then seemed to remember something and spoke again. Every word he’d said so far carried a quiet sincerity, almost as if it had been prepared in advance.
“Oh, I’ve been completely out of it with battles lately. I originally wanted to take you out to dinner and ask you myself.”
“Dinner?”
Wait—dinner? Hye-seong could hardly believe the honor of those words. He hesitated for a moment, then spoke up shyly.
“Then… um, have you eaten yet? I mean, I’m free now if you are.”
“There’ll be another chance.”
Ji-ho cut in gently, but his expression remained soft. That alone made Hye-seong’s eyes light up.
He said there’ll be another chance. Wow.
Of course he’d be busy. Smiling brightly, Hye-seong answered,
“As long as it’s okay with you, I’m happy anytime.”
“…”
Ji-ho furrowed his brows slightly, still looking at him. His round eyes stayed fixed on Hye-seong for a long beat, as if trying to figure something out—then his lips curved into a small, affectionate smile.
“Alright. Let’s have a good month, okay?”
“…”
Wow. It was only a faint smile, but it was the first time Hye-seong had seen him smile up close like this.
Snapping out of his daze, he took a deep breath and replied with a burst of energy,
“Looking forward to working with you! I’ll give it my all!”
“Same here. Please, really.”
To that, Hye-seong responded with the purest, most genuine smile—one that made Ji-ho’s lips curl into a smile of his own, just slightly lopsided.
***
Officially, Yoo Ji-ho was in the middle of a self-reflection period within the Center’s private quarters—an introspective time meant for reconsidering his approach to future missions. At least, that was the public narrative.
Like many Espers and a few Guides on permanent standby, Ji-ho lived in a private residence specially prepared for him by the Center.
His private unit, tucked deep inside the facility like a secluded villa, had been custom-designed just for him. Isolated from other buildings to accommodate his hypersensitivity, it had soundproofing installed in every wall from the very beginning.
A single sheet of paper slid beneath his long, slender fingers. It was a personnel file pulled from the Center’s internal database.
[BAEK HYE-SEONG]
Outwardly, Ji-ho’s “self-reflection” was still ongoing—but in truth, the whole Pair Guide situation had served as a convenient excuse to take a break.
If a high-level Gate opened up, he’d have no choice but to respond, of course.
The appearance of mutant creatures followed a relatively predictable cycle, one that could be graphed and tracked.
Director Shin Hyung-cheol had said they should focus on finding Ji-ho a Guide, both for public perception and for his own health—but conveniently, this just happened to be the low point in the cycle.
After that incident with the giant pink sea cucumber at the shopping mall, there hadn’t been much else going on. Most of the Center’s Espers seemed to be catching up on postponed training.
It wasn’t time to relax completely, but another lull period was just around the corner. For a while, the world would need him less.
Sensing that, the Center had already lined up several public service ads and promotional shoots for the Supernatural Management Bureau, using Ji-ho as their front man.
This was how the Center always operated. The moment there was even a sliver of free time in Ji-ho’s schedule—or even a minor improvement in his physical condition—they’d use that gap to stockpile promotional content.
And of course, Ji-ho wasn’t blind to their intentions. He’d long been used to living as the symbol of the Supernatural Management Bureau in Korea.
He said nothing only because he found Director Shin’s obvious attempt to not upset him almost touching. Though he found the whole thing incredibly irritating, he was willing to cooperate.
But then—
—“Director” has issued an emergency assistance request!
—“Director” has issued an emergency assistance request!
Not like this. Now he didn’t feel like being cooperative at all.
Ji-ho was lying on a sunbed out on the terrace. At the sound of the intrusive voice, his sharp, picturesque brows knit in growing irritation, though his eyes remained shut.
He waited patiently for the noise to stop. Eventually, the house returned to peaceful silence. The sounds of birds chirping from the Center’s eco-friendly landscaping reached his ears.
“…Ugh. So damn loud.”
An Esper’s hypersensitive perception wasn’t exactly conducive to daily life. It was only useful in combat.
His wave pattern, which had appeared to settle after that runaway Guide had grabbed his hand and fled, was now acting up again like usual.
There were no battles lined up, so there was no need to go through the pain of early Guiding. For him, Guiding had always been the last resort—the very last fallback he would allow himself.
“I’ll do my best not to disappoint you. I’ll become a Guide you can truly count on. I’m not sure I’m good enough yet, but I’ll do everything I can to be someone worthy of working with you.”
“You really do inspire confidence.”
A memory popped up and brought a quiet laugh to his lips. Where did they even dig up that scrawny kid and call him my Pair?
He honestly had no idea how to deal with a Guide he’d properly met for the first time.
Trying to get along with someone—that, in itself, was a brand-new experience for Ji-ho.
The Center’s desperate attempt to tether him to someone with this “Pair” setup was cute, but it wouldn’t change how he felt about Guiding.
—“Research Lab” has issued an emergency assistance request!
Looks like Director Shin had finally stormed into the lab and started yelling. Ji-ho groaned and finally sat upright, cursing under his breath at the constant pinging.
Granted, he had turned off the pager and his phone. But now the Director was abusing the emergency-call feature—something that was supposed to be for actual emergencies—for his own petty agenda.
The pager, which had been tossed aside on the terrace, suddenly flew into his hand. Ji-ho silenced the alarm with a tap and connected the call.
—“You little punk! Why the hell haven’t you answered me?!”
“What now?”
—“Did you forget today’s ad shoot or what?!”
“Oh… was that today?”
—“Oh, was that today? Don’t give me that! It’s in two hours! Get that uniform on and get your ass over here! Your Guide—what’s his name, Hye-seong—he’s already here! You should at least say hi!”
Click. Ji-ho ended the call with a scowl before the Director could say more.
“Your Guide,” huh?
The phrase grated on him. His mood soured immediately. He exhaled sharply and got to his feet.
[BAEK HYE-SEONG]
The papers he’d been looking over fluttered to the ground.
“….”
Scattered across the terrace floor, his name stood out—bright and glaring on every page.
