Lee Ki-uk eventually came to a painful truth: as long as he remained under the thumb of those people—driven only by their own greed—he would never be able to do anything meaningful. So, he left the Center behind.
He joined an anti-government organization called Molt, drawn by the way they voiced the same ideals he held deep within himself.
There, he began to seek out others who shared his pain. One by one, he found them—those carrying wounds like his own. Together, they shared their grief, found common purpose, and moved forward side by side.
That was how Molt came to be. Small fragments of strength came together, became us, and eventually grew into a powerful force.
Throughout it all, Lee Ki-uk never stopped researching Gates. At first, his efforts yielded little—results barely worth mentioning. But his relentless persistence began to bear fruit. Slowly, his work started to bloom, then ripen into real results.
“I’ll be with you soon, my love.”
In the photo, the woman remained young and beautiful—unchanged by time—unlike the man he’d become. Lee Ki-uk closed his eyes, letting the memories of his wife, still vivid and full of life, rise to the surface.
The day his wish would be fulfilled… wasn’t far away now.
***
There was one crucial thing Lee Tae-rim had completely overlooked while living as “Lee Tae-rim”—his family.
Naturally, the original Lee Tae-rim must’ve had one, but it hadn’t even crossed his mind until a text message arrived on Chuseok.
[Are you coming home?]
The message, sent from a number saved as Mom, left Tae-rim thoroughly unsettled. It wasn’t “You’re coming, right?” or “When are you coming?”—it was a detached, Are you coming home?
Come to think of it, she hadn’t reached out once before now. When he checked the call history, the last conversation with his mother had been ten months ago—and even that had lasted just over a minute. It felt more like they were just confirming each other’s existence than actually communicating.
Tae-rim didn’t feel the need to call her back and explain anything about his memory loss or new circumstances… Honestly, it just sounded like a hassle.
He started typing out a polite refusal, but got stuck trying to decide whether to use casual speech or formal honorifics. With no message history to reference, he had nothing to guide him. It was awkward as hell.
In the end, he just replied with, “No.”
Later, he saw that the message had been read, but there was no response. So he let it go.
He wasn’t trying to reconnect with his family anyway. Whether in this world or his old one, family had never been much of a blessing. Still, this version of Tae-rim had it a bit better—at least he didn’t have to deal with unwanted calls.
Before he possessed this body, his mom used to call him at least once a week just to nag. And she always seemed to do it while she was around friends, pretending to be the doting mother. That kind of fake concern had always rubbed him the wrong way.
Seon Juho had parents too, but he deliberately kept his distance. He said he didn’t remember them well, and since they were divorced and living separate lives, he didn’t feel the need to get involved.
“Come on, twenty-five is still young. Why am I already getting nagged about marriage…?”
“I should’ve done what Jae-hwa did and just gone for a quick visit. I went all the way there just to get lectured the whole time… Honestly, skipping the holidays is the way to go.”
Yoon Ye-rin and Kim Hyo-il had come back from their Chuseok trips full of complaints. As long as you weren’t on duty, you were free to visit home—or not. After all, it was a national holiday. Plenty of people just used the time to go out and unwind instead.
In fact, TV had once mentioned how holiday seasons caused a spike in attractive people showing up in busy areas. Online humor forums even recommended heading downtown during long weekends—because if you were lucky, you might spot an Esper.
“I did! I was out with my cousin and saw one. I recognized the face, told my cousin he was probably an Esper, and they totally freaked out.”
That’s the reaction from someone who sees Espers every day—so imagine how regular civilians must feel.
Espers and Guides were like peacocks in a crowd. Sure, some Guides were attractive, but most looked like ordinary people. You couldn’t even begin to compare them to the dazzling looks of Espers. There was a reason people joked about Guides being “face-blind.” Actually, you didn’t even need to be a Guide—anyone would fall for those looks.
“You’re the one who went out with Esper Seon Juho and came back in less than thirty minutes, right?”
“…Yeah.”
“Pfft!”
They had taken a taxi to a well-known restaurant about ten minutes from the Center. But the moment they got out, murmurs spread through the crowd. The place was popular, but since it was near the outskirts and close to the Center, it usually didn’t have a long wait. Not that day—there was a decent line.
As soon as people saw Seon Juho step out of the cab, jaws dropped. A few even instinctively pulled out their phones. Tae-rim quickly covered Seon Juho’s face with his hand before any photos could be taken and shoved the bewildered Esper—who was mid-“Hyung?”—back into the taxi.
He had just wanted to give Seon Juho a chance to see the outside world, maybe stroll through a nearby park. But the whole plan had to be scrapped. Tae-rim had grown too used to seeing that face every day and had completely forgotten how insanely good-looking the guy was.
Even when he’d been skin and bones, Seon Juho was handsome—but now that he’d filled out, he was on a whole new level. His looks had reached a point where even Guides couldn’t help but stare. And Tae-rim had taken that face out in public… This was all on him.
“If there were a vote for the most handsome Esper right now, Seon Juho would win, hands down. Even the Guides—who see pretty faces all the time—are stunned. For regular civilians? It’s overwhelming.”
“I really just wanted to show him around a bit…”
“Nope. Not happening. Even with a mask and sunglasses, that face is impossible to hide.”
“Right? Esper Seon Juho is honestly dangerous lately. He’s gotten way too handsome. He was always good-looking, but now he’s just… wow.”
“I know. But I’ve gotten so used to it that I forgot how insane it really is…”
“True. No one here takes pictures just because someone’s attractive.”
Technically, it wasn’t illegal to photograph Espers. But the Center didn’t encourage it, and most Espers hated having their faces spread online without consent. Maybe it was instinct, but for Espers, the only gaze that mattered was their Guide’s. Civilians just didn’t register.
At first, Seon Juho was confused about why they had to turn back. When Tae-rim explained that someone might post his face online, he was appalled. “Why would someone upload a photo of someone else without asking?!” he’d exclaimed—then added with a grin that Tae-rim could take all the pictures he wanted.
But S-rank Espers were actually protected by law—it was illegal to photograph them. S-ranks were considered national assets, and that made it a crime. Tae-rim had completely forgotten that. Once it clicked, he was hit with a wave of panic, worried that someone might’ve already taken a photo.
Most civilians were aware of the rule, too. But Seon Juho was just so striking that people probably acted on impulse. The better-looking the Esper, the more careful you had to be. Supposedly, the fines were massive.
So Tae-rim made sure to warn him: “You’re S-rank. It’s illegal to be photographed. Be careful.”
Seon Juho nodded seriously.
“Still… don’t you think it’s time for Esper Seon Juho to start living independently?” Lee Jae-hwa asked. “He seems adjusted enough.”
Tae-rim sighed deeply.
“He was ready ages ago.”
“What, does he throw a fit when you bring it up?”
“I wish. Just mentioning the word ‘independent’ makes his eyes well up.”
“No pushback from above?”
“Everyone’s swamped right now.”
“Yeah, makes sense. No one’s got time to deal with the little stuff.”
A brief silence fell over the group.
There had been no official announcements, but some people had suddenly disappeared. You didn’t need to be a genius to figure it out—they had been spies.
“Molt’s really something. Who would’ve guessed they’d infiltrated that deep.”
Tae-rim had been stunned when he got the notification: he and Seon Juho had been reassigned to Dr. Oh. All the spies had supposedly been executed. Which meant—Dr. Han was gone too.
“I don’t even know whether to be shocked or sad. I was too dumbfounded to cry. We weren’t close or anything, but I still grew attached to him, you know?”
Yoon Ye-rin had been reassigned too.
They had been Molt’s spies—but also comrades.
And that’s what made it hurt the most.
