It was becoming clear that giving Yoo Ji-ho free rein over the Pair Guide test—rather than running it as a controlled experiment—had been a mistake.
Director Shin didn’t even bother counting how many of the secretly recruited Pair Guide candidates had already dropped out in just one week. The stress alone would’ve been too much.
“Are you actually cooperating properly? You did hold hands with all of them, right?”
“Of course. You can ask the Guides if you don’t believe me.”
“Hrmm.”
Director Shin still eyed him with suspicion. But he had no real rebuttal—none of the Guides had filed any complaints.
The Pair Guide test had been conducted without surveillance, instead relying on each Guide to report their data and results. And every single report Director Shin received said the same thing: a short Contact Guiding attempt had been made, but the effect was minimal, so they switched to Non-contact for the rest of the session.
The only silver lining was that, unlike last time, Yoo Ji-ho hadn’t inflicted direct harm on any of the Guides. His guiding metrics remained poor, but at least there hadn’t been any dangerous incidents.
Still, Director Shin finally snapped, his voice sharp.
“You’re hiding something.”
“Like what?”
It was only natural for suspicion to creep in.
“If you can’t find a decent match within a month, stop meddling with my condition. I’ll manage my own health from now on.”
“Are you serious right now? That’s completely unreasonable.”
“Then let me cooperate—at least try. I’ll even attempt Contact Guiding. Just line up whoever you want for a month.”
“Seriously?”
“You don’t trust me?”
“No, I don’t.”
Then Yoo Ji-ho had furrowed his brows with such pitiful expression and said he wanted to finally be free from all the suffering.
“I just… I want to find my Guide too.”
“…Are you being serious? If you actually find someone you can do Contact Guiding with, you’ll accept regular guiding sessions and wave pattern checkups?”
“Of course. You don’t trust me?”
That time, Yoo Ji-ho had answered with a soft smile. And despite himself, that detached, calm demeanor had completely disarmed Director Shin. Anyone would’ve fallen for it.
But years of being played weren’t so easily forgotten. Shin snapped out of it quickly.
“Wait, hold on. Something about this feels off…”
“I said I’ll at least try. And if you pull that shit like last time, I swear I’ll start by wrecking that surveillance-happy research lab.”
“…”
“Get a clue already. Quit pissing me off.”
How could someone’s expression change that fast? Just thinking about that smug little face made Shin grind his teeth. That little bastard…
“Don’t look at me like that, I’ll get upset.”
“I wasn’t!”
Flinching, Director Shin quickly averted his eyes. Yoo Ji-ho let out a small laugh and rose gracefully from his seat.
“You got your report, right? I’m heading out.”
“How is ‘They were all disgusting’ a report?!”
“I’m busy. I have a white-horse-riding Guide to find.”
No matter how much of a menace he was, Yoo Ji-ho had the face of an angel. Smiling sweetly, he walked out of the director’s office as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
“Ugh, that little shit.”
Shin was starting to think Yoo Ji-ho had never actually intended to resolve his Chronic Guiding Deficiency at all. But even so, he hadn’t given up hope—yet.
At this point, he’d be grateful for anyone who could stay by Yoo Ji-ho’s side without running off. Rank didn’t matter. Compatibility didn’t matter. Just someone, anyone, who could handle that temper.
As he checked the call waiting on his phone, he answered to hear Dr. Na Hye-yoon speaking urgently.
―“Director, we’re about to pull five more candidates for the next round of Pair tests, but something seems off. I know it’s not an unofficial trial anymore, but what does it mean that compatibility isn’t the primary criterion?”
“Ah, that? Since none of them are a match anyway, I figured we should push that down the list a bit—”
…Wait.
A brilliant idea flashed through Director Shin’s mind. One that could pacify the pain-in-the-ass S-rank Esper and get Shin himself out of the line of fire.
“Dr. Na. I was wrong.”
―“Right? I also thought we couldn’t just ignore ranking and compatibility—”
“No. I mean we’ve been thinking wrong this whole time.”
―“…Excuse me?”
“The number one condition now is: they have to listen. Period.”
***
In the Guide Division lounge of the Yeouido Center, two team leaders—close friends and trainees from the same cohort—sat sighing and piecing together what was going on behind the scenes.
Something was clearly off about the current state of the Center.
“How the hell did it overlap with training? You seriously can’t spare even one person?”
“I’ll just go speak to the Director myself. Ask him to push it back to next week or something. Goddamn it.”
A one-on-one meeting with the Director. The kind of thing you avoided at all costs.
And with upper management, if they decided to push something through by force, there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop them.
Team Leader Kim Han-young let out a deep sigh, then suddenly remembered what had felt off about the draft list instructions for next week’s selection.
“But isn’t the wording strange? Are they basically saying they just want the most obedient person?”
“I thought the same. Should we just formally leave one rookie behind and send the rest out?”
Originally, the candidates had to be A-rank only, but the latest message said nothing about that. The only added note was that they were now seeking applicants who could actively cooperate with the Center’s directives.
“One of my rookies already called dibs—asked me to send him in right away. Said he doesn’t care if he doesn’t get picked, just guiding Yoo Ji-ho once would be enough to die happy.”
“Mine are curious but not applying. Honestly, I don’t want to send anyone either. It’s not a normal assignment—it’s a waste of time. Ugh, I really don’t want to see the Director’s face.”
Kim Han-young pressed a hand to her forehead with a grimace. As always, upper management had a knack for exhausting middle managers with exactly this kind of nonsense.
She felt an ache deep in her chest. And just as she looked up without thinking, a voice called out from across the lounge.
“Good morning, Team Leader!”
“Ah, Hye-seong.”
It was the new recruit who had recently joined her team. Though there was some distance between them, both team leaders smiled as they watched the rookie Guide bow deeply and politely as he passed by.
“Adorable. It’s like watching someone on their first day of college.”
“……”
But Kim Han-young didn’t respond to her colleague’s comment. She simply stared, silently watching Baek Hye-seong begin to walk away after his greeting.
He was just a trainee, and only temporarily assigned to her team, but still…
“Are they just trying to pick the most obedient person?”
She’d said that without thinking just moments ago. Now, it echoed in her head. It felt a little ridiculous that this was where her thoughts went first… and yet, something inside her ached a little.
Still, her mouth moved on its own.
“Hye-seong, can you come over here for a second?”
“Yes, Team Leader!”
With wide, gleaming light-brown eyes, Hye-seong came over immediately. Kim Han-young stared at him without blinking—her face stiff, a very forced smile stretching across her lips.
***
Monday morning arrived, and with it, a message from Team Leader Kim that felt far too heavy for how early it was.
[Team Leader Kim Han-young: Hye-seong, just go in and do your usual guiding routine. One hour only.]
[Team Leader Kim Han-young: 9:00AM–10:00AM, Guiding Room 801]
[Team Leader Kim Han-young: If you send in the report, you can leave early—I’ve already approved your afternoon off. Thank you so much, Hye-seong.]
[Team Leader Kim Han-young: I won’t forget this favor~~ ^^]
[Understood! Don’t worry, I’ll do my best!]
[Team Leader Kim Han-young: Okay~~ see you Tuesday. ^^]
[Yes, ma’am!]
Today marked the start of the second rotation in the ongoing search for Yoo Ji-ho’s Pair Guide.
“Uuuuugh…”
After cheerfully replying, Hye-seong buried his face in both hands and groaned. He’d spent the whole weekend in a state of high anxiety—and somehow, it hadn’t eased up one bit.
I’m actually going to guide Yoo Ji-ho…
Would he be able to do it? The mere thought of meeting his idol in person made his heart feel like it might burst.
***
Yoo Ji-ho had become Baek Hye-seong’s one and only hero back when he was in middle school.
On his way home from school, the young Hye-seong had come face-to-face with a massive beast with glowing violet eyes. Frozen in place, he turned pale as snow.
Even in a world where gates opened regularly, most people only encountered monsters through news footage or school safety drills. Seeing one up close—especially one exuding raw killing intent—wasn’t something anyone was ever truly prepared for.
The giant creature, its body covered in thick black fur, looked vaguely wolf-like and glowed with the same violet hue as its eyes. When it let out a guttural sound unlike anything Hye-seong had ever heard, his knees buckled, and he collapsed on the spot.
“Grrrrrrr…”
A straight-A student and textbook rule-follower, Hye-seong learned a brutal truth that day:
All those safety tips and preventative training he’d received at school meant nothing when faced with a slobbering, house-sized monster radiating menace.
The moment their eyes met, every thought emptied from his mind. Everything he’d studied flew out the window.
And then, just as he sat there, rigid and helpless on the ground—suddenly, his body lifted into the air.
“Aaaack!”
Flailing in panic, he realized he was soaring through the air, only to gently land in the branches of the tallest tree nearby.
Clinging tightly to the trunk, he cautiously looked down and saw a figure in black tactical gear approaching from afar. His heart was pounding too hard to keep watching, so he squeezed his eyes shut.
A series of tremors rumbled up the tree from the ground. Then came a sharp yelp from the monster—followed by silence.
And then, once again, peace settled over his quiet route home from school.
“……”
When Hye-seong finally dared to crack his eyes open, he saw someone looking down at him—Yoo Ji-ho, his black mask pulled down to one ear, staring at him with a completely unreadable expression.
