They’d simply been sent here, with only one instruction: live quietly until further orders came. They didn’t even know where they were from. According to Kim Woo-cheol, it was as if that part of their memory had been completely erased. Once something was deleted like that, it couldn’t be restored. So, there was nothing more they could get out of them.
The one who’d been caught trying to escape was a C-rank Esper. He didn’t have any special abilities, but psychic powers had no effect on him. Kim Woo-cheol, an A-rank, suspected that a higher-ranked Esper had put some kind of mental block in place.
While they were waiting in Zone 2 for an S-rank Esper to arrive, all three suddenly dropped dead. With a dull thud, blood gushed from every opening on their faces. It was the exact same way the ones who’d tried to kidnap Choi Jiwoon a second time had died. They had bombs implanted in their brains—and they’d gone off. Just like that, it was over.
The S-rank Esper assigned to Zone 1—also a psychic-type—took over the investigation of those A-rank and S-rank Espers who were immune to Kim Woo-cheol’s powers. He quickly finished questioning everyone except three: Seon Juho, Kwon Hae-beom, and Jung Jae-heon. His abilities didn’t work on them. They were too powerful—even stronger than the psychic Esper stationed in Zone 2—so no mental probe could reach them.
The Center Director seemed willing to let it go with a resigned, “It can’t be helped,” but there was a clear hint of suspicion toward Seon Juho, who had been brought in from Molt’s experimental lab. Seon Juho just scoffed.
When he first arrived, Seon Juho had been forcibly scanned from head to toe. No strange devices—no chips, no bombs—were found in his body. He didn’t recall ever having surgery. Sure, he’d been jabbed with more needles than he could count, but no procedures had ever been done on his body.
Seon Juho had already been an S-rank Esper when he entered the Center, so Kim Woo-cheol’s A-rank powers didn’t work on him. He had simply spoken about what he remembered.
But in truth, there wasn’t much he could tell them beyond the fact that he’d been a lab rat for as long as he could remember. The researchers were always talking about their work, but it was all so technical—dense with medical jargon he didn’t understand.
The only piece of information that sounded even remotely useful was that the goal of their research had been to create an Esper with the power of annihilation. But unfortunately, the Center already knew that much.
Still, only the highest-ranking officials were aware of that detail. Seon Juho had been strictly ordered not to reveal it to anyone. At the time, he hadn’t cared. All he wanted was to see Lee Tae-rim again. He’d nodded without hesitation. He couldn’t think about anything else—just the overwhelming need to be with Tae-rim.
Loving Lee Tae-rim felt like the most natural thing in the world. Without him, Seon Juho might as well have been dead. It was almost surreal—how could such a connection even exist?
If Tae-rim hadn’t saved him back then, he would’ve died. Of that, Seon Juho was certain. He’d seen it—his own power bursting out, consuming everything, burning it all to ash. He remembered the searing pain that came with it. There was no way he could endure that a second time.
Which was why this—lying next to Tae-rim in bed, falling asleep together—felt like a miracle. That someone like him, once nothing but a test subject, had found freedom… it was something he never could’ve imagined. And now, the person he loved was right here with him.
Seon Juho wrapped his arms tightly around Tae-rim, inhaling his pheromones until his lungs were full. It was ecstasy—pure, blissful euphoria.
This was freedom—at last. This was the man who brought him to life—finally, his. And if anyone dared to take this away from him, he would never forgive them.
Seon Juho made that vow again.
***
“Even the Guides?”
“Yes, them too.”
Jung Jae-heon looked visibly conflicted at the Deputy Director’s response. Espers were used to taking orders—when they were told to dig, they dug, no questions asked.
But Guides were a different story. While Espers accepted mental-type abilities as just another power, ordinary civilians associated them with criminals. And now they were going to use those abilities on Guides?
As expected, Lee Yeong-jun, who had been called in alongside him, didn’t look happy. It was only natural to feel uncomfortable with something unfamiliar. Even if you understood there was no malicious intent, that didn’t make it feel any less unpleasant.
“We’ll handle them just like the Espers. We won’t ask anything personal—only whether they’re spies or not.”
There had even been speculation that the person behind Choi Jiwoon’s disappearance might be a Guide. The dormitory entry logs were meticulously maintained, so Espers had no reason to enter the Guide dorms without proper cause—and the same went for Guides entering the Esper dorms.
The Espers had already been screened. If Jiwoon really had been kidnapped, and the Espers were clear, then the only suspects left were the Guides. And even if that wasn’t the case, the Guides still had to be checked. Being a Guide didn’t grant immunity.
“We’re planning to include all civilian staff as well, so there’s no need to worry.”
Although the Esper screenings had been conducted quietly, word still got out. Rumors about a spy hunt had already spread through back channels.
Since Guides were essentially civilians, there was no need to bring in high-ranking psychic Espers. Zone 1 had about ten low-grade psychic-types, and they would suffice. The Deputy Director handed over a sheet of paper with only three questions:
- Have you ever taken orders from an external party?
- Have you ever acted against the interests of the Center?
- Is the Center the only organization you belong to?
With the Espers, they’d asked outright: “Are you a spy?” But for the Guides, they dressed it up in nicer language. Somehow, that made Jung Jae-heon feel strangely bitter.
Lee Yeong-jun read through the questions and seemed to find them acceptable. The Deputy Director, noticing his reaction, smiled in satisfaction.
“There are ten Espers available for screening. Each Guide will be questioned individually.”
The Espers had been called in five at a time—because five was the maximum number Kim Woo-cheol could mentally influence at once. As a result, he was currently half-dead from the strain.
At least the Deputy Director was trying to handle things delicately. If the short-tempered Center Director had been in charge, the Guides would’ve been treated just like the Espers. That man didn’t care about reputation—only results.
Soon, the ten psychic-type Espers began dividing into teams and started screening the Guides. Thankfully, no spies were found among the S-rank or A-rank Guides. But among the B-ranks, two were identified. One more was found in the C-ranks, and five from the lower ranks. The number exceeded that of the Espers, leaving everyone stunned.
The Guides had received the same instructions as the Espers: live normally until further orders. Any critical information had already been erased.
But the situation didn’t end there.
The Guides died just as the Espers had—suddenly, and in exactly the same way. And they weren’t the only ones. Several members of the research wing died with them.
The most shocking death was Dr. Han’s. He had worked at the Center for nearly forty years. You could practically call him a founding member. To think that someone like him had been a spy was a devastating revelation.
It seemed all the spies had been eliminated, but the investigation didn’t stop. Just in case, the Deputy Director ordered that everyone connected to the Center be screened—including unrelated personnel in the nearby shopping district.
Eventually, the screenings came to a close, but what remained was a far bigger problem. Dr. Han’s betrayal hit hardest. Everything he’d been researching, every Esper he was responsible for—was likely compromised. He was one of the few researchers who had access to extremely sensitive information.
News of the events in Zone 1 quickly spread to the other zones. As a result, even the zones that had only screened Espers began investigating their Guides and researchers as well.
There were more spies than anyone had anticipated. Far more. And those embedded within the upper ranks were the worst of them.
Naturally, Central went into full crisis mode. The idea that there might be traitors among them sent shockwaves through the entire organization.
And the fear soon became reality.
A spy was discovered in Central. As soon as rumors began circulating about internal investigations, he took his own life. He wasn’t just anyone—he was a Deputy Director.
But it didn’t stop there. More names followed. One by one, people in Central either committed suicide or were killed. The entire country was thrown into disarray.
With the spies dead, there was no information to recover—only devastating losses. The deeper they dug, the more overwhelming it became. Everyone was left speechless.
At that point, it was clear: only Molt, the anti-government organization, could’ve pulled off something this vast and long-term. Still, no one had imagined they’d managed to infiltrate this deeply.
A Deputy Director at the Center—it was unthinkable.
Central immediately went on high alert. A Deputy Director at an Awakener Center had access to an enormous amount of sensitive intel. And if such a person had been a spy for Molt, then it meant nearly all of the Center’s secrets had already been leaked.
