“Yes, have you by any chance looked up at the sky today? The weather’s really nice.”
“Oh, yeah… the sky was…”
“Haha. On a day like this, nothing beats a good burger.”
“Ah… really?”
“Yeah, so… I was wondering…”
A brief silence settled in the Guiding Room. Han Geon-woo’s voice trembled slightly as he opened his mouth again.
“Would it be alright if, sometime… I took you out for one?”
“……”
At his voice, Hye-seong’s blank gaze slowly shifted forward, locking eyes with him.
In that moment, memories from the past came rushing back.
“Oh, it’s not anything weird, I promise. It’s just that being there today… I couldn’t stop thinking of you, Hye-seong, and…”
“Alright! The number one question all Yeouido Center trainees ask—whether you’re a Guide or an Esper—can I see Yoo Ji-ho? Can I see the S-rank Esper? Yes, absolutely! Maybe once or twice a year at an official event, and from a distance no bigger than a cotton swab. Most Guides will never even come close to him, so don’t get your hopes up!”
“Booo! BOOOO!”
“Focus, people! Stay focused!”
That was something an instructor had once said, half-jokingly, during the new recruit orientation for trainee Guides. And it was from that moment that Hye-seong had quietly let go of the hope that he might ever meet Yoo Ji-ho.
As a brand-new recruit with only a month of experience, and a B-rank Guide at that, Hye-seong had never even dared to dream of working with Yoo Ji-ho, let alone becoming his Guide.
At best, he’d hoped they might cross paths by chance.
But even after orientation, every senior he met said the same thing: no one had ever seen Yoo Ji-ho up close outside of official functions—and even then, only from a distance.
“Some Espers say not meeting Yoo Ji-ho is the secret to a long life. Getting assigned to a mission where an S-rank gets deployed? Ugh, don’t even think about it.”
That line had come from Choi Yoon-sol. Just yesterday.
So no—he hadn’t expected anything like what happened earlier today.
And now… that chance would never come again.
“Hhk!”
Suddenly, Hye-seong sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide. Han Geon-woo jumped up, flustered.
“Hye-seong! Are you okay? Is it me? I’ll call an Inspector right away—just wait here!”
“N-no! I’m fine. I’m sorry. My mind’s just been all over the place today… I know you’ve got a packed schedule, and I should be focused. I’ll concentrate now—please, give me your hand again.”
Hye-seong spoke quickly, snapping to attention, determined to approach the session with professionalism and sincerity.
“Are you sure you’re okay? We can reschedule for tomorrow. I really don’t mind.”
“No, I’m okay! Really.”
He smiled, trying to reassure Geon-woo. He just felt guilty for letting his mind wander during the session. Pulling Geon-woo’s hand gently back into his own, Hye-seong clasped it with both of his and closed his eyes like he was praying.
He’d only been a Guide for a month—had only just pledged to serve the nation’s security—and yet, the situation a moment ago was something he couldn’t forgive himself for.
First, as a Guide of the Republic of Korea, I vow to dedicate myself to the safety of its people. Second, I will faithfully uphold my duties in protecting the Espers entrusted to my care.
Muttering the Guide’s Ethical Pledge silently to himself, he glanced at the screen. About two more minutes of Guiding were needed. They were running roughly a minute behind schedule. He couldn’t afford to waste an Esper’s time.
“I’ll wrap this up quickly. I’m really sorry.”
“Hye-seong, no need to rush.”
“I insist!”
His reply came sharp and disciplined. Then Hye-seong tightly shut his eyes again—but as he did, Yoo Ji-ho’s face appeared vividly in his mind. Even more perfect than the familiar smile he’d seen so many times on TV. That gentle expression, despite looking a bit tired.
And even then, he had smiled at him.
Really—he’d just stood there like an idiot in front of the open elevator, yet Yoo Ji-ho hadn’t shown a hint of irritation. He had been kind.
He’d even held the elevator door open and pressed the button for the first floor.
The Yoo Ji-ho he’d seen again after so many years was more mature, and far more striking than he ever appeared on screen.
Especially when he spoke to him across the elevator doors—it was like he was glowing.
“…I actually saw Yoo Ji-ho recently.”
“Huh?”
The voice that broke the silence was, surprisingly, Han Geon-woo’s.
“O-out of nowhere?”
For a second, Hye-seong wondered if Geon-woo was a telepathic Esper who had read his mind. But then, Geon-woo quickly moved to recover the chance he thought he’d lost.
“Oh, I meant during that battle Yoo Ji-ho talked about in his recent interview. I happened to be nearby and joined in late with one of my teammates. The place was total chaos—civilians everywhere, panic setting in… and then Yoo Ji-ho showed up. Thank god he was at the Center that day.”
“Really? You saw Yoo Ji-ho fight in person?”
“Well, actually… I tossed him a weapon he could use.”
“Wow…”
Hye-seong’s eyes sparkled with awe. Geon-woo caught himself staring—he could see the hope shining in those eyes.
“You didn’t get hurt, did you? That must’ve been dangerous.”
And now, he was worried about him?
“N-no! I was totally fine!”
Geon-woo wasn’t usually much of a talker. But right now, he had to become someone who was. Like he’d forgotten how to breathe, he finally began to speak.
“A lot of Espers were injured, but yeah, that was my first time seeing him in action. He was incredible. We managed to evacuate civilians thanks to him. For Espers, working with an S-rank—even once—is basically like a badge of honor.”
“Yeah, I can imagine…”
“Haha…”
Geon-woo chuckled awkwardly. Just moments ago, Hye-seong had been all business and formality—but now he was listening with wide, shining eyes, nodding along enthusiastically. Clearly, despair was not something to dive into headfirst.
Then, with eyes that sparkled like stars, Hye-seong said,
“Yoo Ji-ho has such good manners. And he’s really kind, isn’t he?”
“…Huh?”
Caught off guard, Geon-woo quickly exaggerated his tone.
“O-of course! Incredibly kind. Extremely.”
“Right? I’ve actually been helped by Yoo Ji-ho before. He was so kind then, too. I remember it clearly.”
“……”
“Yoo Ji-ho is just… amazing.”
Smiling brightly, Hye-seong seemed to remember something and hastily added:
“Ah, of course you’re amazing too, Geon-woo. I guess since I’m still a rookie, I tend to look up to Espers more like a civilian than a colleague. Oh! It’s finished.”
Hopping up from his seat, Hye-seong’s movements were quick and precise. Geon-woo’s head followed him dazedly.
Those glittering eyes from the moment he’d brought up Yoo Ji-ho… Geon-woo realized far too late that they weren’t a good sign.
“You must be busy today too—shall we wrap it up?”
“…Yeah.”
What Geon-woo hadn’t known was this: there was a massive wall inside Hye-seong.
A wall so towering and beautiful that no ordinary human could ever scale it, no matter how hard they tried.
“Thank you again for today, Hye-seong.”
“And I’m always grateful for your hard work, too.”
Hye-seong bowed politely, and Geon-woo let out a bitter chuckle as he stood. Ahead of him, Hye-seong was already tidying the room briskly, not wanting to waste a busy Esper’s time.
Even though he wanted to ask more, hear more… he held it in like a true professional.
After finishing up with Han Geon-woo, he had to return to his desk to write the report.
What the heck is going on today?
Luck seemed to be on his side. On his way back to the office, he didn’t even have to wait long—an elevator arrived almost immediately.
He’d seen Yoo Ji-ho up close in real life. And the Esper he was Guiding regularly now was someone who’d fought with Yoo Ji-ho.
For a rookie Guide who had only just hit his one-month mark at the Yeouido Center, his sense of pride, fulfillment, and loyalty was overflowing—to the point it might be considered toxic.
“Huh?”
The elevator screen—the same one from when he ran into Yoo Ji-ho earlier—was silently playing news broadcasts about the Center.
<Yeouido Center releases statement on recent Esper controversy: ‘Deep regret over complications during rescue operation’>
<Yoo Ji-ho responds: ‘As a public figure, I accept all criticism… My dedication to the people remains unwavering.’>
<Preview for tonight’s 120-minute debate: ‘Where should we draw the moral line for supernaturals?’>
The Center had already announced that Yoo Ji-ho would be stepping back temporarily to reflect on the recent incident. And now, the screen kept looping variations of the same content in different tones.
It had been a noisy scandal. It would probably take a few more days to die down.
Do they really have to play this everywhere?
He knew the Center broadcasted updates about Espers randomly throughout the facility, but still… the sight made him scowl involuntarily. This was the same elevator Yoo Ji-ho used, too. Just watching it felt suffocating.
Was that why he’d looked so tired earlier? Hye-seong remembered the way Yoo Ji-ho had frowned while staring at the floor.
“…It must be so hard for him.”
As if it were happening to him personally, a shadow fell over Hye-seong’s face as he let out a soft sigh.
***
A few days later, at the Supernatural Management Research Institute under the Yeouido Center.
Director Shin Hyung-cheol, who had stopped by the lab in person for the first time in a while, swallowed dryly with tension. It had been like this for days, but today, the atmosphere at the lab had been on edge since morning.
Today was the day.
The day Yoo Ji-ho would receive Contact Guiding.
