“Hyung! Hyyyung~! Eat dinner before you pass out!”
Lee Tae-rim cracked his eyes open at the sound of Seon Juho’s voice. His body felt noticeably lighter. With S-rank dorms being decked out in high-end furniture, even the sofa was as wide and soft as a bed. Tae-rim stretched and got to his feet.
“You cooked?”
“Yup!”
Sure, all he did was reheat pre-made food, but still—effort was effort. Tae-rim gave him the lavish praise he was clearly hoping for, like a puppy begging for approval, and sat down at the table. A spread that looked like it came straight out of a high-end restaurant was laid out before him.
“What’d the machine say?”
“Something about an anti-government group? Not really sure.”
“Hmm…”
The only organization Tae-rim could think of that would conduct secret experiments outside the government’s watch was Molt, the anti-government group featured in the novel. So from the moment he’d seen the machine, he’d vaguely suspected it might be tied to them.
But knowing that didn’t really change anything. In the novel, Molt was never fully uncovered, and the episode had ended with K’s death. All Tae-rim really knew was that they were an anti-government group. Nothing more—just the same surface-level information everyone else had.
Even so, now that he was living in this world, Molt was a threat he couldn’t avoid forever. Still, he couldn’t help but hope nothing too messy would happen before he died. As far as Lee Tae-rim was concerned, peace was the most important thing in life.
***
He never wanted to go on another expedition, but training was non-negotiable. Just a few days without exercise and his body already felt sluggish. Maybe this was what being addicted to working out felt like, Lee Tae-rim mused, throwing himself into training with renewed focus.
“You heard the rumors about Choi Jiwoon lately? They’re pretty bad.”
“No, I haven’t.”
Tae-rim had barely sat down to rest in the lounge when Kim Hyo-il sidled up to him. Oddly enough, Lee Jae-hwa was there too today. For the record, Yoon Ye-rin had once claimed the two things she hated most in the world were exercise and the smell of sweat. Breathing was the only workout she needed, she’d said.
“Apparently, the Guides who were at the infirmary that day are saying Esper Kwon Hae-beom would’ve died if it weren’t for you. And that Choi Jiwoon was so incompetent it changed the way they saw him.”
“Really?”
“‘Really?’ That’s all? I’m telling you, your image is seriously shifting.”
“Well… that’s probably a good thing.”
“Why do you sound like a monk who’s transcended all earthly desires?”
“Wouldn’t you be? I mean, from the second I opened my eyes in the hospital, the way people treated me said it all.”
“Yeah… you’ve got a point there.”
All three of them nodded in agreement while sipping their sports drinks.
“Still, you were pretty damn impressive. I heard Esper Kwon Hae-beom had a hole in his side, and you handled it calmly without panicking. If it were me, I probably would’ve just held his hand and forgotten to Guide him.”
“Well, I did just finish re-training.”
“Even so, keeping your cool in front of someone covered in blood isn’t easy. You really did good.”
“Yeah. When someone compliments you, just say thanks.”
“Haha. Thanks.”
“Honestly, even if Esper Kwon Hae-beom hadn’t spoken up, people would have finally started seeing you in a better light.”
Lee Jae-hwa’s comment earned a nod from Kim Hyo-il. To be fair, they were only talking this openly because the three of them were alone in the lounge.
“It’s just kind of a waste that all those formal complaints got withdrawn. Ye-rin had been dying to gather evidence and lay it all out, but it turned into a whole lot of nothing.”
“Come on. If I’d stood there in front of everyone nitpicking every accusation, I probably would’ve looked pretty pathetic.”
Honestly, Tae-rim had no intention of rebutting each point in those complaints anyway. Just like Kim Hyo-il said—it would’ve looked petty. He’d already offered a clear, clean apology. That was enough. And Choi Jiwoon had accepted it without issue. No harm done.
What did bother him, though, was the sudden shift in public sentiment. Jiwoon had clearly dropped the ball that day, but now it looked like people were quietly shunning him. That part was unexpected.
As per Lee Yeong-jun’s orders, Jiwoon was now undergoing field retraining. Tae-rim had heard that Lee Yeong-jun had blown up that day, but he hadn’t expected him to send Jiwoon out for an entire month of field work.
Kwon Hae-beom had apparently wanted to join Jiwoon in the field but wasn’t able to. He’d been stuck at the Center doing nothing but the bare minimum of training. As for Guiding, Jiwoon came back once a week, Guided Hae-beom briefly, and then returned to the field. Meanwhile, Hae-beom was holding out with the help of Guiding Supplements, trying to train as little as possible.
He could’ve just come to Tae-rim instead—but no, the man was stubborn as hell. Then again, Kwon Hae-beom was a true romantic. The kind of guy who only ever digs one well. Stoic in public, sweet in private.
Originally, Jiwoon had just felt sorry for him—an S-rank Esper who never had a proper Guide. That’s why he’d stepped in, offering his help.
And at first, Hae-beom hadn’t had any particular feelings for Jiwoon either. He was just someone who could Guide him. Nothing more.
But over time, as Jiwoon stayed cheerful and upbeat in the face of Hae-beom’s coldness, he gradually broke through the walls. Eventually, Hae-beom fell for him, and asked him to become his exclusive Guide.
He was sure Jiwoon would say yes. But Jiwoon turned him down, saying he was only a B-rank and didn’t think he was good enough for an S-rank Esper.
Of course, Hae-beom didn’t back down. He poured everything into trying to win him over. For Hae-beom, Jiwoon was the first and last Guide he would ever want. His sincerity was almost painfully sweet—so much so that Jiwoon ended up falling completely for him.
That kind of love was bound to feel precious.
As someone who’d once been a reader, Tae-rim genuinely supported their romance. Let them bicker and cuddle and live out their little love story—just leave him out of it.
Besides, with the plot already this far off track, maybe the death ending had been completely avoided. There was no more reason for Tae-rim to antagonize Jiwoon, and even less chance of Kwon Hae-beom ever lashing out at him again.
At this point, Tae-rim was confident that no matter what Kwon Hae-beom said, he wouldn’t go charging off into a monster-infested battlefield again. Why the hell would he? Especially not of his own free will.
Still, the label of “Guide who stood there doing nothing while their Esper nearly died” was a heavy one. No Esper wanted to entrust their life to someone like that. So the Espers badmouthed Jiwoon for being useless, and the Guides criticized him for disgracing their kind.
On top of that, even Kwon Hae-beom—who had always been on his side—wasn’t there now. He clearly wanted to be with Jiwoon in the field, but it looked like Lee Yeong-jun had intervened. Judging from the vibe, that had to be the case.
Otherwise, there’s no way Kwon Hae-beom would just sit around at the Center while the person he loved was out there struggling.
Jiwoon might act like a stoic little Candy who never cried no matter how sad or lonely he got, but the truth was, he had a fragile heart. Every little bump shattered his confidence. Right now, Jiwoon was probably hurting more than anyone realized.
“So, how was the external expedition?”
“Haah…”
The moment the topic came up, Tae-rim let out a sigh so deep it practically came from his soul—prompting the other two to burst out laughing.
“Guess it really was rough, huh? People said you came back like a zombie.”
“…It’s classified, so I can’t say much, but I never want to go again.”
At his even deeper sigh, they laughed even harder.
“How’s it different from an internal expedition?”
Tae-rim gave them a look that said, I could talk for hours, but I won’t. That made them laugh even more.
“It’s hilarious how people envy those who go on external expeditions. I mean, if someone hates it that much, there’s probably a good reason.”
“Right? Just tagging along with Espers is hard enough. I don’t get people who actually want to go.”
“Seriously. Some folks act like it’s a freaking field trip. Like they’re hot shit or something. Let them try it for themselves. Then they’ll shut up.”
“Oh, I completely agree with that.”
“Right? With their zero stamina, if they had to rough it out there for a few days, they’d be embarrassed real quick. But until then, they’ll never get it. They’re just too damn optimistic.”
Their banter was biting, but Tae-rim couldn’t disagree. He didn’t join in, but he agreed with every word. They were right—until you experience it yourself, you’ll never understand. Internal expeditions were manageable, but external expeditions? Unless you were an Esper, it was absolute hell.
Then again, they could only talk this openly because the lounge was empty. If anyone else had been around, there’s no way they’d have said half of this out loud. Even if none of it was wrong.
After chatting for a while, the three of them went back to training. Kim Hyo-il was the type who stayed fit year-round, while Lee Jae-hwa only trained when he felt like he was gaining weight. Apparently, Kim Hyo-il was skilled enough to be invited for internal expeditions, but he always refused—said exercise stopped being fun when it became a job.
Tae-rim didn’t really care one way or the other. Right now, he was just amazed at how athletic his body had become. It made working out feel genuinely enjoyable.
While Tae-rim was immersed in his training, Jung Jae-heon was nursing a pounding headache. The Center Director and Seon Juho were locked in a tense standoff. The machine Seon Juho had discovered was turning out to be far more serious than expected. It hadn’t been fully analyzed yet, but based on the initial findings, it looked to be connected to the Gate.
