Baek Seo-ha inhaled and exhaled repeatedly, trying to calm his racing heart.
“Why can’t it be processed? Today was supposed to be the last day.”
“Yeah, it was.”
At Kim Beom-hak’s casual reply, Seo-ha felt like he was about to lose it.
“Then why? What’s the reason for the delay?”
“There’s an Esper looking for you.”
Kim Beom-hak spoke with a very serious and solemn expression, but Seo-ha’s face twisted more and more bizarrely as he listened. He looked like someone hearing a strange noise in the distance, wondering, Where the hell is that coming from? Even though he bit his lips and tried to pretend it didn’t affect him, it was already too late.
“You shouldn’t look at your superior like that.”
“Then say something that makes sense. Who the hell is looking for me?”
Seo-ha raised both hands and shrugged. What kind of nonsense was this…?
It was perfectly normal for an Esper to look for a Guide, but an Esper looking specifically for Baek Seo-ha? That was just bizarre.
“Forget it. It’s probably someone who heard the rumors again and wants to see for themselves.”
It wouldn’t be the first time. He wasn’t even that surprised anymore, but the fact that his resignation was delayed because of it—now that was irritating.
“But I’m done now. I’m not doing any more matching tests, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“You have to go.”
“If it’s because of the Center’s regulations, then I really don’t have to. I already entered two Gates even after submitting my resignation. If you keep holding me back until the very end, what do you expect me to do?”
He truly thought this was the end. Isn’t it just cruel that he still couldn’t leave?
“That’s why we have to stick to the rules even more. An Esper can request guiding from any Guide. That regulation applies to you too—even if you’ve submitted your resignation and are just waiting. You have to accept it.”
“But, that’s…”
He knew exactly what that meant. Ever since Gates first appeared, Espers had become the most vital national resource. Naturally, their guiding took absolute priority, and unless there was an exceptional reason, requests were always accepted.
Seo-ha lowered his head and clenched his lips shut. If he said he wouldn’t do it now, Kim Beom-hak would try to soothe him like a child. He always had. He was the kind-hearted old man who would listen to his tantrums—Seo-ha knew better than anyone how much crap Beom-hak had taken behind the scenes because of him.
That’s why he couldn’t bring himself to say no. And besides, Kim Beom-hak was just the messenger—if he wanted to argue, he’d have to take it up directly…
After sorting through his thoughts, Seo-ha looked back at Kim Beom-hak as if nothing had happened.
“Understood. I’ll meet them. Should I go to them?”
Seo-ha responded with a blank gaze, clenching his fists behind his back to keep himself steady. In the awkward silence that settled in the suddenly subdued atmosphere, it was Kim Beom-hak who raised his hand first.
“The Esper will come here. He said he desperately wants to see you, so just meet him this once. This is the last time.”
“Okay.”
He really hoped this would be the last.
***
“You acted like you were going to quit right away, but you’re pretty tenacious, huh.”
He had just walked into the café, thinking he’d grab a drink to ease his frustration, when that snide remark hit him like a slap to the back of the head. Shouldn’t have come. That bastard Cho Ha-cheol had been bold even when caught bad mouthing someone—now he just said it outright.
“You said you submitted your resignation. So why are you still hanging around the Center?”
“Ha-cheol, you probably think of this place as your lifetime job, so you don’t get it, but submitting your resignation doesn’t mean you can leave immediately.”
Seo-ha held back his irritation and deliberately replied in a kind tone to Cho Ha-cheol.
“Oh yeah? I thought maybe you were still clinging on.”
Judging by Cho Ha-cheol’s mocking grin, it looked like he’d been waiting for this moment.
“I figured maybe you were dreaming that some Esper would show up at the last second asking for you…”
“Thanks for your concern, but that’s not a dream.”
He responded calmly and turned away. He was scanning the menu board, trying to decide on a drink, when the cashier blurted out, “3,800 won,” without even asking for his order.
‘I might’ve wanted something different… Isn’t this out of order or something?’ He wondered for a second, but quietly handed over his card.
“It’s been paid. We’ll let you know with the buzzer.”
The staff didn’t even make eye contact, speaking in a rush before heading off to prepare the drink. With the order over before he could blink, Seo-ha scratched his head and slipped the card back into his wallet as he began to walk away—or tried to.
A hand grabbed his arm, turning him halfway around. Seo-ha looked down at Cho Ha-cheol.
“What?”
“You think an Esper’s just going to pop out of thin air if you live like this?”
The same Cho Ha-cheol who’d been gloating just moments ago was now frowning.
“What are you talking about?”
“Why lie like you’re fine when you’re clearly not?”
Cho Ha-cheol kept prodding him, trying to get a rise out of him, but Seo-ha honestly didn’t get it. What kind of reaction was he supposed to have shown?
“There’s no Esper out there looking for you.”
“Ah…”
When Cho Ha-cheol asked if he was chasing a foolish dream and Seo-ha replied it wasn’t, it seemed he still didn’t believe him. Then again, even Seo-ha hadn’t believed it himself when the director first told him—who would seek out someone with just a 3% compatibility rate?
“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not lying.”
“Always so full of yourself. Gotta cling to that ‘I’m a Guide to the bitter end’ crap, huh?”
“Ha-cheol. I’d really rather not have this conversation anymore.”
The pager buzzed, and the employee gave him a look that said “Come get it,” but Cho Ha-cheol still hadn’t let go of his arm. And it wasn’t just him. A familiar Guide who’d been with Cho Ha-cheol, as well as an Esper, were now watching with intrigued expressions.
Why the hell did he have to become a public spectacle at a damn café?
“What? Still got some pride left?”
He didn’t have any pride left. Said it was all worn down to nothing, didn’t he?
“And yet here you are, spouting crap about some Esper looking for you.”
“I’m not lying.”
Seo-ha let out a sigh as he replied.
But Cho Ha-cheol, clearly not planning to let it go, only tightened his grip.
“Then admit it right here. Say, ‘I used to strut around pretending to be hot shit because I was Grade A. No Esper’s actually looking for me—I just said it to save face.’ Go on.”
Now it was clear why Cho Ha-cheol was acting so vicious. If Seo-ha quit, Cho Ha-cheol would be dead last in matching rate rankings. He must’ve been hoping to pull Seo-ha down to prop himself up.
There was an unspoken hierarchy even among Guides. The higher your grade, or the higher your bonded Esper’s grade, or even your match rate—all of it was used to rank who was impressive and who was disposable.
That’s why he’d latched onto someone easy to target like Seo-ha. It was nasty, sure—but looking at it from a different angle, Seo-ha felt a kind of pity. Unlike himself, who could walk away, Cho Ha-cheol would be stuck here, stewing in place.
Fine. Maybe offering up himself one last time could count as a parting gift. He could manage that much…
“Yeah, like someone who boosted their match rate by screwing over an Esper would ever admit it.”
“……”
Seo-ha clenched the buzzing pager in his hand. The vibrations started in his palm and shot up through his arm to rattle his skull.
People had their limits. Seo-ha was the type who could peacefully coexist as long as that line wasn’t crossed. But Cho Ha-cheol had crossed it.
“There is an Esper who’s looking for me.”
“Baek Seo-ha, seriously, right up until the—”
“I said, there is.”
He cut Cho Ha-cheol off. Then, staring straight at the scowling man, he said each word with crystal clarity.
“He said he desperately wants me. He begged so sincerely that even the director couldn’t say no.”
“Bullshit…”
“If you don’t believe me, go check for yourself.”
Don’t just corner him here and act like he’s full of crap. Seo-ha didn’t want to deal with him anymore, so he ignored Cho Ha-cheol, held out the pager, and picked up his vanilla latte.
Well, guess he wouldn’t be coming back to this café ever again.
“Baek Seo-ha.”
Just as he was passing by, Cho Ha-cheol’s voice rang out loud. God, he really didn’t know when to quit.
“What now?”
“Prove it.”
“What?”
Seo-ha turned around, honestly baffled.
“You want me to prove it? Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because otherwise I won’t believe you.”
“I told you to go to the director, didn’t I?”
“That guy would say anything for you. I don’t even know what the two of you really have going on.”
“Ha…”
It wasn’t even shocking—he’d already heard that kind of gossip before. But even though he replied vaguely, inside he was boiling. Not even this vanilla latte could soothe him now. His patience had clearly run out.
“I have no reason to prove anything to you, and besides, I still don’t know who the Esper is.”
“Oh, so you mean you don’t know because there isn’t one?”
“I said I don’t know. They said they’d come today, so I was waiting. But why the hell do I owe you an explanation?”
Even as Seo-ha mumbled in disbelief, Cho Ha-cheol stared at him like he couldn’t believe a word of it.
“What a joke. Like anyone would go looking for you…”
Cho Ha-cheol’s mocking tone suddenly cut off. And not just his—there was something odd about the whole atmosphere.
The surrounding people, their faces surprised, were all staring in one direction. Seo-ha turned, wondering what the hell had happened.
Then he saw someone who hadn’t been there before.
And with a face full of disbelief, Seo-ha muttered:
“So you were the one desperate for me?”
Han Ju-oh’s brows lifted sharply into a triangle.
“Was it you?”
