It felt like he was going to suffocate—like he was going to lose his mind. And more than anything, he was scared.
He’d woken up in a strange place, surrounded by things that made no sense. Everything was off. The sheer absurdity of it all made him feel helpless and furious. In the end, he couldn’t hold it in and broke down crying.
He tried to keep it together, but the sorrow was too overwhelming.
He sobbed uncontrollably, loud and raw, until someone finally asked: “If you’re not Lee Tae-rim, then who the hell are you?”
He opened his mouth to answer. But—
Wait… What was his name?
He could clearly remember his family. His friends. Their names, their faces—etched into his memory. But his own face? His own name? Nothing.
Panic surged through him. Who was he? Where had he been born, how had he lived? He remembered everything else in vivid detail—except his own identity. Somehow, the most basic parts of himself were missing.
Even to him, it was bizarre. Incomprehensible.
Was this a dream? That was the only explanation he could think of. And if it was, he needed to wake up—now. This was a nightmare.
He pinched the back of his hand. Hard. It hurt.
No way… This isn’t a dream?
But everything around him looked like it had been ripped straight out of one. A situation this unreal couldn’t possibly happen in real life. Being told he wasn’t himself? It was insane. He just wanted to wake up and escape this nightmare.
This isn’t real. This is just a bad dream, he told himself over and over, desperately trying to snap out of it. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing changed.
What if… what if I’m in a coma somewhere and this is just my mind stuck in limbo? Is that it?
The thought made his chest tighten. And just like that, the tears started flowing again. He felt like he was losing his grip.
Maybe he’d cried too much, too pitifully—because the mood in the room had shifted. He had wailed like a victim, and now everyone around him was just watching, nervously exchanging glances.
It was obvious they’d realized something had gone terribly wrong. But whatever it was, they’d already gone too far to undo it.
All that filled the hospital room now was the sound of his heartbreaking sobs.
The Center Director, who had been silently watching from the sidelines, finally called over the original doctor who had started this whole mess.
And then he snapped: “Are you insane?”
What followed was a full-blown verbal takedown. One by one, everyone involved got chewed out.
“What the hell were you doing, diagnosing someone without even properly examining them?” the Center Director shouted. This, from the same man who’d mocked him the moment he arrived.
Eventually, the Director summoned someone else.
Not long after, a man showed up.
The moment he laid eyes on him crying, his face twisted in irritation. But when the Director gave the order, he sighed and reluctantly began to speak.
And that’s when the truly bizarre thing happened—
As the man started asking questions, the answers began spilling from his own mouth. He wasn’t doing it willingly. The words just flowed, completely outside his control. Like he was under hypnosis.
The questions came at him like a cross-examination, and he answered every single one. When it was over, everyone just stared at him in stunned silence.
But he wasn’t even thinking about that. What haunted him was the complete invasion of his mind.
They had pulled out everything inside his head without permission.
It was humiliating. Violating. And the shame of it made him cry all over again.
Why was this happening to him? What had he done to deserve any of it?
“Esper Kim Woo-cheol, are you absolutely sure you used your ability just now? Are we sure Guide Lee Tae-rim wasn’t just talking to himself?”
He’d answered everything—every detail, down to the smallest thing—except his own name and face. And yet, the Center Director treated him like a lunatic. Like he was just babbling nonsense.
It was ridiculous.
But before he could even react, one word shook him.
Esper?
Wasn’t that a word out of science fiction?
And come to think of it, they had called him a Guide.
No way. There was no way this was real. Stuff like possession, transmigration—those were fantasy novel tropes, not something that happened in real life.
He tried pinching his cheek this time. Hard enough to make himself yelp.
Ow!
Still nothing. No awakening. No return to reality.
Despair swallowed him whole.
The others in the room looked equally stunned. Like even they couldn’t believe what was happening.
In the end, the doctor diagnosed him with Dissociative Identity Disorder.
Multiple personalities.
And just like that, he became “Lee Tae-rim” and was admitted to the hospital.
Whether he actually had DID or whether his memories would return with time—no one knew. Everything was still up in the air, so he had no choice but to stay.
But even after a week, nothing changed.
Every morning, Lee Tae-rim opened his eyes to the same ceiling. And every morning, he felt crushed by the same despair.
He didn’t want to live in a place like this.
The doctor assigned to him had changed too. He no longer looked at Tae-rim like a joke, but like a fragile, unstable patient. His manner was polite. Gentle. Careful. Like a real doctor.
Tae-rim remembered how cold that same man had been when they first met. All he could do now was laugh bitterly.
The doctor had started sharing bits and pieces about the real Lee Tae-rim—probably hoping that something would jog his memory.
But it was useless.
Time passed, and he still retained the memories of someone else entirely.
And then came the kicker.
The most outrageous thing the doctor had said—
Lee Tae-rim was a Guide. Someone who stabilized Espers after they used their powers.
He explained that when Espers used their abilities, their bodies would become contaminated with ESP energy. Guides were people who could purify that contamination.
Tae-rim thought he was going to lose his mind.
Espers? Guides?
Those were terms out of a novel. Not real life. But now they were being spoken to him, like they were real.
Could this really be happening?
Was he seriously inside a book?
If that was true, then he was screwed.
Because Lee Tae-rim—that name—belonged to a villain in a novel he’d once read.
The story was called The Good Guide.
It was about a sweet, ever-optimistic Candy-type protagonist who awakened as a lowly B-rank Guide. Despite the odds, he ended up with an S-rank Esper thanks to an incredible compatibility rate.
And Lee Tae-rim?
He was the love rival.
An elite S-rank Guide who was hopelessly in love with that same S-rank Esper.
That Esper had never had a proper match. His sync rate with all Guides was always below 15%. But then a newly awakened B-rank Guide appeared— With an 89% match.
Naturally, the B-rank Guide became his exclusive partner.
Then, four months later, another Guide awakened. An S-rank. And his match with the same Esper was 70%.
That S-rank Guide…
Was Lee Tae-rim.
Although his compatibility rate was lower than the B-rank Guide’s, the fact that he was S-rank more than made up for the difference.
From the perspective of the higher-ups, it was only logical to pair an S-rank Guide like Lee Tae-rim with the S-rank Esper.
Just four months ago, they’d been all smiles, welcoming the B-rank Guide with open arms and praising how well things were going. But as soon as Lee Tae-rim appeared, everything changed.
Of course, an S-rank would always receive better treatment than a B-rank.
The problem was, the S-rank Esper had already started to open his heart to the B-rank Guide.
So in the end, the S-rank Esper chose the B-rank over the S-rank.
But the higher-ups didn’t back down. As far as they were concerned, an S-rank Esper deserved an S-rank Guide.
And Lee Tae-rim had fallen hard. He was completely infatuated with the Esper.
With the full support of the higher-ups behind him, he approached the S-rank Esper without hesitation, confident and entitled.
But there was no room left for him between the two who had already started building something real.
Naturally, Tae-rim began to resent the protagonist—the one who had been chosen.
He insulted him without a second thought. Shoved him. Even hurt him.
And the higher-ups just looked the other way. He was S-rank, after all.
But the people around them weren’t so forgiving. Tae-rim’s actions quickly drew criticism.
Every time he lashed out at the protagonist, word spread fast.
And with each incident, his reputation sank lower and lower.
Still, he couldn’t stop. That’s how deeply obsessed he was with the S-rank Esper.
Eventually, his name became synonymous with disgrace. Even the higher-ups could no longer defend him.
What Tae-rim did to the protagonist was so vile that people openly called him trash.
He spiraled. Caused more trouble.
And then one day, in the middle of a mission, he got caught in an accident and died.
That was how he exited the story.
A villain’s end—tragic, meaningless, and utterly pathetic.
And back then, he’d thought Tae-rim deserved it.
He’d even left a comment: Serves him right. Good riddance.
And now… he was Lee Tae-rim.