“Isn’t that pushing yourself a little too hard…?”
Lee Yeong-jun’s voice trailed off awkwardly as his eyes flicked toward Choi Jiwoon. Lee Tae-rim responded as calmly and casually as he could.
“I’m fine. If it ever feels like too much, I’ll say so. And I won’t guide anyone who already has a dedicated Guide or who declines.”
“Ah, yeah. Okay.”
Tae-rim grabbed a juice from the fridge and took a sip. As expected, S-ranks got the premium treatment.
Back when he’d been assigned to Team 5 with the C-rank Guides, all they had was a basic tent with a big cooler packed with water and drinks. There were always more sweet beverages than plain water, and now he understood why—Guides always reached for juice over water.
He hadn’t noticed it when guiding C-ranks, but after working with S-ranks, he realized just how much it drained his blood sugar. It finally made sense why everyone was chugging juice like it was lifeblood.
Among S-rank Guides, Tae-rim was considered top-tier. His Matching Rates were consistently good, no matter who he paired with. Typically, even among fellow S-ranks, compatibility could be hit or miss, but Tae-rim had an unusually broad range—he matched well with nearly everyone, like some kind of omnivore when it came to Esper energy. He was just that capable.
According to the pre-deployment briefing, his Matching Rate with all the S-rank Espers in District 1 was over 60%. The lowest was 62%, and the highest reached 78%.
His Matching Rate with Kim Hye-min was 69%, which wasn’t bad at all. But something about the energy just wouldn’t sync properly. He could tell it was a technical issue, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating. As for the lowest one—62%—he had no clue how he was supposed to handle that.
And sure enough, as if thoughts had power, the 62% himself showed up asking for guiding. Jin Yun-tae, an Esper a year older than Tae-rim, sat down with his legs crossed, radiating arrogance as he listened to Lee Yeong-jun’s explanation. Without a word, he held out his hand like he was doing Tae-rim a favor.
Tae-rim didn’t react to the attitude. He simply took Jin Yun-tae’s hand and started the guiding.
He was even tougher than Kim Hye-min. Judging by how he didn’t bother with a greeting, he probably already disliked Tae-rim. Failing to guide him properly only bruised his pride more, so Tae-rim doubled down and focused even harder.
Closing his eyes, he poured every bit of his awareness into the session. Compared to a C-rank, Kim Hye-min’s energy had felt like a flowing river. Jin Yun-tae’s, though—while no larger in volume—was wilder and more violent, like rapids crashing against rocks. Calming it was a struggle.
“Tae-rim!”
The sudden shout snapped him out of his concentration, and his eyes flew open. Everyone in the guiding room was staring at him.
“How deep do you have to be not to hear someone yelling? That’s enough with Yun-tae. Jieun will take over from here.”
“…Right.”
He let go of Jin Yun-tae’s hand, only to find his own damp with sweat. Tae-rim pulled out a tissue and handed it over with a quiet apology.
“Sorry about that.”
Jin Yun-tae nodded absentmindedly, still looking a bit dazed, then moved on to receive guiding from Bae Jieun. And this was only the second person of the day. Tae-rim was already losing steam. He buried his face in both hands and let out a long, weary sigh.
“There’s no need to rush, you know?”
Lee Yeong-jun tried to console him, but it didn’t help at all.
According to the novel, while Tae-rim was undeniably skilled at guiding, his constant grumbling made people avoid him when they could. Those with high Matching Rates had no choice but to receive guiding from him, but the atmosphere was never exactly warm.
So if he wanted to get any practice in, now—while Yeong-jun was around to mediate—was his only chance. Once they were back at the Center, Tae-rim wasn’t even sure if anyone would choose him. He found himself wishing they’d wrap things up and head home in a day or two.
But life rarely worked out the way you wanted.
That evening, all the monsters were wiped out. Kwon Hae-beom, fresh off a passionate session with Choi Jiwoon, had returned and cleared them all in one sweep.
Tae-rim could only sigh as he climbed into the extraction chopper.
***
He’d honestly thought no one would come to him for guiding—but to his surprise, three Espers ended up seeking him out regularly.
Kim Hye-min, perhaps impressed by how hard he’d worked that first day, kept showing up, encouraging him to keep practicing. The other two came simply because of their high Matching Rates with him—both over 70%.
Compared to the 62%, the one with 78% was an absolute relief. That energy felt like a calm river, barely rippled by a passing breeze.
His Matching Rate with Kwon Hae-beom was 70%. Even Kim Hye-min, at 69%, was no walk in the park. A 1% difference wasn’t going to magically make guiding easier. Tae-rim only became more determined to avoid Hae-beom—not that the guy was likely to come to him anyway.
About a month after returning from deployment, the once-overwhelming task of guiding started to feel manageable. Choi Dong-ha, who had the highest Matching Rate with him, coolly commented that Tae-rim still had a long way to go to get back to his former self—but the uncontrolled energy bursts had already dropped dramatically.
Even Park Seon-wook, who occasionally checked in on him, praised the improvement. He said Tae-rim had made impressive progress in a short time, especially compared to where he started.
The other Guides still looked at him the same way, but Tae-rim was too preoccupied with improving his guiding to care. He didn’t have the luxury of feeling lonely—survival came first.
“I heard you’re pretty good at shooting. You were decent before too.”
Guides were trained to handle emergencies: basic fitness drills, protocols for separation from a team, and most importantly—marksmanship. Tae-rim had been surprised to learn that Guides even received this kind of training. The novel never once showed Choi Jiwoon going through any of it.
Jiwoon didn’t look like much physically—he barely seemed 170cm tall, with a slim frame. The physical training was no joke. With that body? It sounded unbelievable, but apparently all Guides were required to complete it, so he just accepted it. Jiwoon wasn’t what mattered right now.
“The instructor said the same thing.”
Apparently, this body had excellent dynamic vision. The shooting instructor had told him he was well above average by civilian standards. He’d even encouraged him, saying monsters weren’t the real threat to a Guide—people were—and that he should train hard.
The Esper Tae-rim was guiding now was Jung Jae-heon, with a Matching Rate of 73%. Compared to Kim Hye-min, he was a bit easier to handle. At 32, Jae-heon was the oldest among the active S-rank Espers in District 1. His personality was a bit sly, but he was one of the few who didn’t treat Tae-rim with prejudice.
“How about joining the upcoming internal expedition? It’s part experience, part training—an exploration of Sectors 1 through 8. It’s led by Team 3’s Park Cheol-min, a veteran known for his field leadership. You’re doing well with guiding, but you’ve fallen behind on the physical side. Time to start getting your edge back.”
If Tae-rim was supposed to recover his previous skill level, it was going to take time. Looking through old training records, it was clear he’d once been a top-tier trainee. Thinking back, the instructors had shown a definite fondness for him from day one—like they recognized a promising student.
I guess I wasn’t a pain in the ass there. Just focused on training like I was supposed to.
“There was finally a Guide I could bring on external expeditions, and then your reset threw the whole plan out the window.”
“Wait—what? That’s the first I’m hearing of this.”
“I couldn’t dump that on someone who’d lost all their memories. I figured I’d bring it up once you’d gotten further along in training.”
So there were external expeditions. The novel had been a sweet, romantic slice-of-life from the protagonist Guide’s point of view. It had never even hinted at this side of things.
“Other Guides can’t go on them?”
“Nope. Yeong-jun’s hopeless when it comes to physical stuff, Jieun gets scared too easily, and anyone below S-rank is useless because of Matching Rate issues. Then you showed up, and for the last two years, external expeditions have finally been manageable. Before you came along, we had to rely on guiding supplements just to get by. Outside the walls, it’s total lawlessness—you can’t afford to bring dead weight that can’t protect themselves.”
Tae-rim realized he’d been standing in a far more critical role than he ever imagined.
Reading the novel, he’d written his character off as just another petty villain. But looking at things objectively, the worst he’d done to Choi Jiwoon was mouth off—telling him to know his place, metaphorically holding a knife between his teeth.
Physically? At most, he’d bumped Jiwoon’s shoulder hard in passing, or shoved him lightly, making him fall on his butt. Okay—he had poked Jiwoon in the forehead with a finger now and then, deliberately bruising his pride. That part might’ve been excessive.
But still, that was it.
Jiwoon had only ever been hurt once. He’d fallen during one of those shoves and slightly sprained his wrist. That was the extent of it.
And yet Kwon Hae-beom had exploded in fury over that one incident, acting like Tae-rim was some kind of monster. As if he’d committed some unforgivable crime.
Reading as a neutral reader, it had just seemed like Tae-rim was doing the same job as everyone else—he just had a higher rank. So what gave that other guy such overwhelming confidence?
But now that he was Tae-rim, his perspective had flipped completely.
He was training rigorously every day, putting his body on the line, going on dangerous expeditions beyond the walls. Meanwhile, Choi Jiwoon was treated like royalty just because he was Kwon Hae-beom’s dedicated Guide—getting every special privilege under the sun and only guiding one person.
And so, Tae-rim finally understood.
There was a reason the higher-ups had looked the other way when he gave Jiwoon a hard time.
From the company’s perspective, Tae-rim was simply the more valuable employee.
