Chapter 21
“Ah, haha…”
Intimidated by Chahun’s aggressive stance, the employee took a half step back, letting out a nervous laugh as he looked at Yeonwoo. Avoiding that gaze, Yeonwoo closed his eyes and bit his lip. Experience had taught him that avoiding both physical contact and conversation until these people wore themselves out was the best way to avoid future trouble.
There was no reason to engage with employees who were clearly trying to provoke him, waiting for him to make a mistake so they could use it as leverage to get to Yeonhwa.
Chahun looked at Yeonwoo and asked:
“Were you in the middle of a conversation?”
“No.”
“And you? Have you said everything you needed to say?”
A forced cough followed Chahun’s question. Perhaps it was because they were ordinary people. If they had been Espers, they would have fled from the mana that Chahun was exerting, but being regular employees, they continued hovering around Yeonwoo instead of backing away.
“Uh, well…”
“Esper Han Yeonwoo. We’re not asking you to sign a contract right now. Just read through the documents, at least.”
“That’s right. There are no conditions whatsoever that could harm Esper Han Yeonhwa.”
As if. Yeonhwa was still a minor. The very act of a minor working as an Esper was against the law, so how could there be “no conditions” that could cause harm? Irritation must have shown on Yeonwoo’s face, because the employee trying to persuade him softened his voice even further.
“Esper Han Yeonhwa may be a minor, but since she awakened early, she has more experience than many adult Espers. Mental-type Espers even learn how to control their abilities from Esper Han Yeonhwa.”
“We’re not asking Esper Han Yeonhwa to enter dungeons. We’ve carefully selected the content with Esper Han Yeonwoo’s feelings in mind, as her brother, so please don’t be so guarded and just take a look.”
“That’s right. Once you see it, Esper Han Yeonwoo, you’ll like it too.”
Yeonwoo snorted loudly enough for them to hear.
They sure talk well. The moment he accepted those documents, they’d pester him for days: Did you read it? What conditions don’t you like? Are you the one refusing? Is Yeonhwa refusing? It was all too predictable.
“As we keep saying, you don’t have to decide right now. Just read it fir—”
“Eek!”
“What the—!”
At the sound of crackling ice, startled Yeonwoo opened his eyes.
The employees were fleeing in shock at the sight of the frozen documents. The papers had shattered into pieces as they hit the ground, with ice crystals floating delicately upward.
“Excuse me.”
Chahun caught one of the ice crystals and tilted his head sideways as he looked down at the employee who hadn’t managed to escape.
“You know what?”
“Y-yes…?”
“Newly awakened Espers are clumsy with their abilities.”
As he spoke, Chahun took a deliberate step forward. The employee, unable even to scream, stumbled backward. Having retreated to join colleagues who were standing at a distance, the employee kept glancing nervously at Yeonwoo. Seemingly realizing that Chahun’s words were a threat, the employees who had been staring at the shattered frozen documents began to slink away. Watching their retreating backs, Yeonwoo let the tension drain from his body and slumped against the wall.
His head was throbbing.
If Yeonwoo was this sick of it, Yeonhwa must be having an even harder time.
In the past, both Yeonwoo and Yeonhwa had gone without sleep because of people begging to know about her precognition. When Yeonhwa woke up from seeing the future, she’d been grumpy with sleep, but people badgered her about what she’d dreamed, who was in it, wanting to know every single detail. The same happened to Yeonwoo. Summoned by Association officials, he had to explain every detail of the pictures Yeonhwa had drawn.
Association officials tried to keep Yeonhwa’s ability a secret. But Yeonhwa wouldn’t stay quiet. The more the Association officials pestered her, the more she openly talked about her dreams. The Esper Association did everything they could to silence her, but that only increased the number of people circling around her.
As a last resort, when they detained Yeonwoo, Yeonhwa defiantly made copies of her drawings and handed them out to anyone who wanted them. Then came a terrible chaos.
It took a long time for everything to return to normal. For a while, the world was so chaotic that Yeonhwa couldn’t see the future clearly. During that long period, many guilds were ruined, and people who entered dungeons driven by greed never returned. This was why there were so few S-class Espers left.
Despite this, people never stopped trying to change the future to achieve their desired outcomes. Espers who discovered they were protagonists in Yeonhwa’s books approached her and Yeonwoo to read those books.
Yeonwoo pressed his temples. Not only Center employees but various guilds would approach him, desperate to read even a single line of Yeonhwa’s books. Suppressing a sigh, Yeonwoo stretched out his hand and glared at the document fragments. If this had been a guild rather than the Center, they would have already ransacked his house, offered a huge reward, and then casually brushed it off saying it was all for the best.
That’s why he came to the Center, but…
The problem was that the Center was trying to obtain Yeonhwa’s precognition through “legitimate” means—going so far as to create ridiculous documents like “consent forms for minor Esper activities.”
Even knowing how dangerous the boomerang of causality could be, they were willing to risk it to change the future. Just like Yeonwoo had once done…
At that moment, a wave of headache hit Yeonwoo, and he covered his ears. A ringing sound was shaking his head.
“Hey, what’s wrong?”
Gasping in pain, Yeonwoo reached out. I need to escape. He murmured as he grabbed Chahun’s arm.
“What is it? Are those people back again?”
While Chahun frowned and looked around, Yeonwoo stared into space with unfocused eyes.
What was I just…?
Blinking blankly, Yeonwoo noticed the document fragments scattered on the floor. After scanning the messy floor, he stood up. Tsk. It’s the same everywhere. Some people make the mess, and others have to clean it up.
Chahun looked down in confusion as Yeonwoo, who had been staring absently around, suddenly began cleaning up the floor. He crouched down beside him. With a wave of his hand, the ice crystals that had frozen the document fragments fell off. Hesitating as he looked at Yeonwoo’s reddened, frozen fingertips, Chahun picked up a fairly large piece of paper.
“Can I ask what this is?”
The document in Chahun’s hand had [Activity Consent Form] written clearly on it. Seeing Chahun’s genuinely puzzled expression, Yeonwoo felt a small sense of amazement. Yeonwoo had lived his entire life as Han Yeonhwa’s brother. He was called “Han Yeonhwa’s brother” more often than by his own name, to the point that hardly anyone was unaware of Yeonhwa’s ability. Yet here was someone asking about Yeonhwa while sitting right in front of Yeonwoo.
With an odd feeling, Yeonwoo bit his lip, gathered the document fragments, and set coordinates. After confirming the sound of paper piling up in the nearby trash can, Yeonwoo smiled weakly.
“My sister has a rather powerful ability, but she’s still a minor. A legal minor.”
“And?”
“So they come running to me, her guardian, whining to let her be active.”
Being an Esper is dangerous in many ways.
Raiding dungeons and dealing with monsters in hazardous areas was actually manageable. Most operations involved careful planning and preparation to prevent casualties, then overwhelming the enemy with superior numbers.
But if caught in a suddenly appearing gate, an Esper could become isolated in a dungeon. Nothing was more appetizing to monsters than a lone Esper. To prevent such misfortunes, Espers always moved in teams. So even getting caught in a gate was manageable.
The problem was that Yeonhwa was a mental-type Esper. Mental-types had unstable mana, couldn’t form teams, and lacked any notable attack skills. They had the most sensitive mana cores of all Espers, making guiding inefficient.
What if Yeonhwa got caught in a gate? What if her mana core malfunctioned and caused seizures? What if she went berserk with no guide nearby? What if her mana core squeezed her heart, causing her pain?
That’s why Yeonwoo wanted Yeonhwa to start working as late as possible, and Yeonhwa agreed.
He knew she occasionally exchanged information with certain Guild Masters, but that was a trade she wanted. Yeonwoo didn’t want Yeonhwa to be active for his own selfish gain.
…He didn’t want to be the same as their parents.
“Isn’t it a crime for minors to be active? So why are they asking for your consent?”
“They’re using a loophole. They want to get her working now, then when she becomes an adult, they’ll offer activity funds so she’ll sign with them.”
“Ah.”
“Our Yeonhwa is still just a kid, and I don’t want her doing dangerous activities yet.”
While the Center at least created plausible-looking minor activity consent forms because there were many witnesses, some guilds had even attempted kidnapping. Fortunately, now that they had the subspace, there was no worry about kidnapping.
When Yeonwoo was younger, carrying the sleeping Yeonhwa on his back as they fled, many guilds had offered help. Each time, Yeonwoo folded space with extreme caution. He couldn’t trust anyone. Whether they were kidnappers, those claiming to protect them, or those approaching for Yeonwoo’s permission—they all had the same goal: Yeonhwa’s ability.
Until Yeonhwa became an adult and found a group to belong to, incidents like today would continue to happen. Sighing, Yeonwoo started to stand up but then pointed at Chahun’s chest.
“What?”
“Your zipper.”
With an “oh” expression, Chahun pulled up the zipper that had been down to his solar plexus. At his “is it fixed now?” expression, Yeonwoo gave Chahun a long once-over. After checking the zipper pulled up to his chin, the sleeves secured at his wrists, and the auxiliary bag attached to his forearm, Yeonwoo nodded.
Before, he had looked like a vacuum-sealed product, but now he properly looked like an Esper. The black hair with blue highlights in the light and the dark training uniform suited him well. After checking the knots tightening around his ankles and moving his gaze back up, Yeonwoo frowned.
“Where’s your employee ID?”
“Here.”
A tangled purple lanyard appeared briefly from his pocket and then disappeared again.
“I don’t want to wear this. If you wore it for even a day—no, what am I saying—even an hour, you’d understand why.”
Chahun grumbled with a blank expression.
At those words, Yeonwoo instinctively looked around. Fortunately, since it was training time, they were alone in the hallway.
This was a place where countless people begged to become S-class, even for just a day. Chahun probably said this because he hated his name being widely known, found it annoying, and disliked people whispering when they saw his name—but to others, it might sound like ungrateful complaining.
“By the way, what brings you here?”
“Just thought you might be here, hyung.”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
