“I felt so good back then. The pain just vanished, and right here it was like—bam. Oh! Hyung!”
Lee Tae-rim finally gave in and smacked Seon Juho’s shoulder with a solid thwack. Juho, not even remotely hurt, clutched his shoulder with an exaggerated whine.
“Ow! Hyung hit me!”
“Pfft! You little punk, is there anything you won’t say?”
“I’m not little! I’m taller than you!”
“Doesn’t matter. You can’t say things like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re still a kid. That’s why.”
“They said I’m an adult now—I’m twenty! I even learned how to do Guiding.”
“…What?”
“They also taught us how to have sex! I’m not a child anymore!”
Lee Tae-rim’s jaw dropped. What the hell?! That was actually part of Esper education? He was so stunned he couldn’t speak, just gaping like a fish. Seon Juho took the chance to pull him into a tight hug and buried his nose in Tae-rim’s neck.
“They said it’s totally normal to think someone smells good. It’s natural to like how the person you love smells.”
He had seriously underestimated a kid’s curiosity. When did he even ask about this kind of stuff?! Tae-rim pressed a hand to his forehead.
“Hyung, you like me too, right?”
Tae-rim couldn’t answer. If the question was just do you like me, sure—he could say yes. But if Juho meant more than that… then no. This was still the same kid who cried his eyes out, snot and all, whenever things didn’t go his way. How could Tae-rim possibly see someone like that as a man?
“Why won’t you answer? Wait… don’t tell me… you don’t like me?”
Juho pulled back from the hug, eyes meeting Tae-rim’s directly. Tae-rim subtly averted his gaze.
“Hyung…?”
His voice quivered, on the verge of tears again. His eyes were already glistening. Tae-rim let out a deep sigh.
“I do like you, Juho.”
“Hyung!”
“But it’s not the same kind of ‘like’ you’re talking about.”
“Why not?”
“Because, you little brat. You’re still the kind of kid who cries and throws a tantrum when things don’t go your way. Grown-ups don’t act like that.”
“But the instructors… they said it’s okay to cry in front of someone you love….”
What the hell are they teaching these kids?!
Espers, by nature, feel emotions differently from regular people. Their lives revolve around combat and Guiding. When an Esper finds someone special—their Guide—they instinctively understand how to win them over.
Even full-grown Espers cry without shame when they sense that vulnerability is the key to swaying their Guide. Like someone programmed them with a cheat sheet.
In other words, Seon Juho cried because of Lee Tae-rim. Deep down, he knew that if he cried, Tae-rim would eventually give in. That’s why the waterworks—tears, snot, the whole thing—came so naturally to him. Tae-rim sighed again.
“I don’t date kids.”
“……!”
Before the words were even out of Tae-rim’s mouth, Juho’s tears vanished. But he wasn’t completely composed—his nose was still sniffling.
“If I don’t cry, does that make me an adult?”
“No.”
“Then how do you become an adult?”
“Well, for starters, adults know how to live on their own.”
Juho’s face fell like he’d just been punched in the gut.
“And they don’t cry every time things don’t go their way.”
This time, his lips jutted out in a deep pout.
“They know how to choose their own future. The rest… you’ll have to figure out yourself. That’s what being an adult means.”
His pout only deepened. He looked like a teenager on the brink of rebellion. Tae-rim had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. That duck-like pout was dangerously cute, but this was not the time to be laughing.
“When I become an adult, will you date me then?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why not?”
“Because no one knows the future. Not even me. I don’t know if I’ll ever like you that much, enough to want to kiss you or more. That’s something I can’t predict.”
“Why not? It’s your heart—shouldn’t you know how you feel? I already like you so much!”
“And you’ll understand all this when you grow up.”
“…….”
His pout grew even more exaggerated. He was teetering on the edge of full-on sulking. Understandable, considering all Tae-rim had given him were vague, frustrating answers. Tae-rim sighed and pulled Juho into another hug, gently patting his back.
“So hurry up and grow up already.”
“No. You’re just trying to kick me out faster.”
“I’m not. That’s not it at all.”
“Liar.”
Seon Juho refused to return the hug, clearly sulking. Tae-rim felt a pang of disappointment. Maybe he’d gotten more attached to the kid than he realized.
But then, Juho’s hand crept up slowly.
“You’re really mean, hyung.”
And just like that, he couldn’t help himself—Juho started rubbing his face against Tae-rim’s shoulder. Still just a baby. Still unbearably cute. Tae-rim couldn’t hold back anymore and let out a soft laugh.
***
“Whatever you do, don’t let Tae-rim see your true personality.”
“…….”
Seon Juho glanced briefly at Jung Jae-heon, then turned his focus back to the monster in front of him. With a flick of his telekinesis, he snapped the A-rank monster’s neck, then physically ripped the head from its body using sheer brute force. The spine came tearing out with a sickening crack, and even the Espers watching nearby looked horrified.
Wherever Juho’s hand swept, monsters were torn to shreds, as if slashed by the claws of a wild beast. He didn’t bother to suppress the violent energy radiating from him—it surged like a storm around the battlefield. Jung Jae-heon clicked his tongue.
Juho acted like a harmless puppy whenever Tae-rim was around. But the moment Tae-rim disappeared, he transformed into a savage beast no one dared to approach.
Jung Jae-heon still remembered the first day. The second Tae-rim was out of sight, Juho’s face went completely blank. The shift was so stark it gave him chills. And his attitude—arrogant, cold, terrifying—was so extreme it was like he had Dissociative Identity Disorder. It wasn’t just a mood swing; it was like dealing with two completely different people.
He’d known Espers could be emotionally intense, but Seon Juho was in a league of his own. It was like watching a real-life Baron Ashura.
“Esper Jung Jae-heon, sir… can you please do something about Seon Juho? He’s so scary we can’t even focus on the hunt.”
An A-rank Esper approached cautiously, almost pleading. Jung Jae-heon just shrugged.
“He’s been like that ever since he heard Tae-rim was sexually harassed during a C-rank Guiding session. I can’t do anything about it. If you really want it to stop, go bring in the assholes who did it.”
“That’s basically a death sentence for those C-ranks.”
“He won’t kill them.”
Nearby C-rank Espers had gone completely pale. Judging by their expressions, there was more than one guilty party. Jung Jae-heon let out a long sigh.
“Unless you want to end up like that monster, just pray that Tae-rim calms him down properly.”
Word about Seon Juho had spread fast among the Espers on this mission. Turns out, all that sweetness he showed in front of Tae-rim was nothing but an act. And not just any act—a masterclass in fakery.
But even knowing that, no one dared to snitch. The consequences would be far too terrifying. So everyone kept their mouths shut.
Jung Jae-heon had been fooled, too. Juho looked so soft, so baby-faced, he’d actually worried the kid might cry at the sight of a monster. But no—once Tae-rim was out of view, his expression vanished, and he started tearing through monsters like a machine.
At first, Jae-heon had been irritated by how recklessly Juho was burning through energy. But now? His control was flawless. And the monsters he left behind—torn apart, shredded—looked so pitiful it was hard to watch.
Espers really weren’t cute in any way. Jung Jae-heon shook his head in disbelief.
In the middle of the hunt, Juho suddenly spun around and shot off like a bullet. Insanely fast. If he was moving that quickly, there was only one reason: Guiding.
Just moments ago, he’d looked like a literal demon, slaughtering monsters with ease. Now, he’d be standing in front of Tae-rim, acting like the sweetest, most harmless thing in the world.
Jung Jae-heon, now familiar with Juho’s blank expression, couldn’t help but shudder and hunch his shoulders. God, that’s creepy.
Right now, opinions about Lee Tae-rim were completely polarized—and all because of Seon Juho.
Due to the Incomplete Imprint between them, Juho couldn’t receive Guiding from anyone else. But only a few people knew that—it was being kept under wraps.
Fortunately, the two had a record-breaking 90% Matching Rate, so no one dared complain openly. But between the A- and B-rank Guides, there was tension.
Those who already had issues with Tae-rim were now whispering behind his back, saying he was monopolizing the new S-rank Esper.
The B-rank Guides were the worst, and it was all thanks to Choi Jiwoon.
A B-rank Guide becoming the exclusive partner of an S-rank Esper? That was practically unheard of. No—it was nearly impossible. But Jiwoon’s case had filled their heads with ridiculous fantasies.
It was honestly a headache.
In truth, S-rank Espers never accepted Guiding from Guides ranked below A. The difference in energy quality and capacity was just too great. Only Espers like Kwon Hae-beom, who didn’t have any Matching Rate-compatible higher-ranked Guides, would even consider a B-rank.
Even with a high Matching Rate, if there was a higher-ranked Guide with better compatibility, an Esper would always choose the better one.
So the fact that Kwon Hae-beom chose Choi Jiwoon was a real outlier—one of those once-in-a-lifetime exceptions.
Normally, out of ten S-rank Espers, all ten would choose someone like S-rank Guide Lee Tae-rim. Hae-beom’s case was just that rare.
