Baek Seo-ha and Han Ju-oh began frequenting the training room.
At first, curious eyes followed them wherever they went, intrigued by the unusual sight of the two standing side by side—but surprisingly, no incidents occurred. That was likely because rumors had spread far and wide that Han Ju-oh mercilessly crushed any Esper who badmouthed Seo-ha.
Now that Seo-ha could work comfortably at the company, people’s attention shifted to the nature of their relationship. It was already fascinating that Baek Seo-ha, with a mere 3% match rate, had become Han Ju-oh’s Pair Guide. That alone sparked a flood of questions.
After entering the training room, Seo-ha looked at Han Ju-oh’s watch. He checked the risk level displayed and then reached for his wrist.
“What are you doing?”
Han Ju-oh looked at Seo-ha with a puzzled expression as he placed his fingers on his wrist and closed his eyes.
“I’m taking your pulse.”
The seriousness on Seo-ha’s face made it almost convincing, like he really was checking a pulse. He pressed his fingers against the skin as if feeling for a beat, but in truth, he was pushing in guiding energy.
“You’re still not doing well.”
At Seo-ha’s playful diagnosis, Han Ju-oh played along, as if to say, Go ahead, keep going.
“How bad is it?”
“Like an office worker who’s been pulling all-nighters for a month straight? Your body’s wrecked.”
Having turned Han Ju-oh into a corporate zombie, Seo-ha pulled his hand back once the guiding session ended. That marked the end of the teasing. It was a sign that they were now starting actual training. Without hesitation, Han Ju-oh launched himself into the air without even a running start.
Seo-ha’s expression grew serious as he observed the wind pressure Han Ju-oh generated when he soared, and how high he went before his facial features became hard to discern.
“Even if our match rate is the worst possible…”
Seo-ha’s muttered words brushed against Han Ju-oh’s ears.
“There’s still something I can do.”
Because that was the least he could do for someone he’d made a contract with—it was a matter of respect. Seo-ha never took his eyes off him. He guided Han Ju-oh every two hours, and Han Ju-oh used only that much ability, no more.
Seo-ha’s gaze, fixed on the partner he would be working alongside from now on, was intense.
***
“I brought everything that seemed even remotely related.”
Kim Mi-yeon placed a thick stack of papers in front of Han Ju-oh. It was roughly the size of her palm in thickness—basically an encyclopedia.
Han Ju-oh picked up the hefty bundle effortlessly with one hand and began flipping through it page by page.
“You really think reading all this is going to help?”
Kim Mi-yeon, resting her chin in her palm, remarked on how reckless he was being.
“You think Baek Seo-ha never looked into why his match rate won’t go up? If you ask me, he’s probably already read through all those studies.”
She was skeptical. But despite hearing her, Han Ju-oh continued silently, seriously turning page after page, unshaken.
“I might see something that Baek Seo-ha didn’t.”
He was determined to find out why Baek Seo-ha’s match rate refused to rise.
“Well, it’s not like you lose anything by reading it.”
Kim Mi-yeon didn’t try to stop him anymore. She didn’t expect him to listen to her anyway. Instead, she just stared at his face.
“You’ve been hitting the training room with Guide Baek so much, but you actually look better now?”
Han Ju-oh said nothing, still focused on the research documents, but Kim Mi-yeon pressed on unfazed.
“I mean, a guy who used to barely eat enough to stay alive now eats dinner regularly. I hear your fridge even has power now?”
Han Ju-oh glanced sideways at her.
“My assistant lives in 303. Says it’s torture because the smell of grilled meat wafts over every evening.”
“Guide Baek loves meat.”
“Eating grilled beef every day for over a week isn’t just love—that’s obsession. My assistant won’t even look at meat anymore.”
Han Ju-oh didn’t deny it. He really had eaten like that.
Did he switch to a different meat the following week? No. He just added a stew to the lineup.
“Well, thanks to him, you’re eating well now too. That’s good. You really do look healthier.”
Though still sharp-edged from the lack of proper guiding, there were subtle improvements. The nutrition from all the meat and rice clearly made a difference. Eventually, he even switched from white rice to multigrain. Han Ju-oh’s features had visibly softened.
Thanks to his inherently strong stamina, just proper sleep and regular meals were enough to significantly lengthen his training sessions compared to before.
“If only you’d eaten that well from the start. You probably would’ve fought even better.”
He was already exceptional as an S-Class, but Kim Mi-yeon had always regretted how poorly Han Ju-oh took care of himself. Back when she tried to look after him, he barely listened. But when Baek Seo-ha did it, he followed.
“Did Guide Baek threaten you or something?”
“He didn’t.”
Han Ju-oh replied coldly.
“Then why are you so obedient to him?”
“It’s just…”
He briefly recalled eating with Seo-ha—and smiled.
“Because it’s not bad.”
It didn’t feel like Seo-ha was just trying to appease him. He had his own way of doing things, sure—but that unpredictability carried a strange sort of charm. If Han Ju-oh picked at his food, Seo-ha would bluntly wrap up the meat and shove it into his mouth. And if something was too greasy to stomach, he’d crack open a beer and steer the conversation elsewhere.
Little by little, those moments added up—bringing with them an unexpected sense of comfort.
“Anyway, you two getting along is a good thing. But that’s not the only reason I called you. A gate has appeared.”
Kim Mi-yeon called her assistant and summoned Baek Seo-ha as well. Then she leaned back into the sofa to give Han Ju-oh space to keep reading through the research materials.
A few minutes later, Seo-ha walked into the executive office, and the moment he did, Han Ju-oh visibly reacted. He quickly slid the documents he’d been reading under the table, keeping them out of Seo-ha’s view.
“You called for me?”
“Take a seat.”
Kim Mi-yeon gestured to the chair across from Han Ju-oh. Seo-ha nodded and stepped inside—but instead of sitting where she’d indicated, he sat beside Han Ju-oh.
“You two seem awfully close.”
“Then you’re seeing things.”
Seo-ha sat next to Han Ju-oh for a reason: to sneak a look at whatever it was he had just pushed under the table. But Han Ju-oh shifted it out of sight so quickly, it was no use.
“See? We’re not exactly on good terms.”
Even though he was plainly saying they didn’t get along, the tension between them had clearly eased. Thanks to that, the concern in Kim Mi-yeon’s eyes lessened a bit.
“An A-rank gate has appeared. It will open the day after tomorrow. Han Ju-oh will be going in. Guide Baek, please prepare accordingly.”
“Understood.”
Seo-ha nodded, not particularly surprised—it seemed he had expected this. But instead of looking at Kim Mi-yeon, he turned his gaze to Han Ju-oh.
“Get guided before you go.”
Normally, Seo-ha could overlook the fact that Han Ju-oh didn’t receive regular guidance and suffered the physical consequences. But before entering a gate, that was another matter entirely.
The unwavering look in Seo-ha’s eyes made it clear: he wouldn’t let him go in unguided.
***
As the gate’s opening drew near, Espers and Guides alike tried to ease their nerves. Some whispered words of love, while others speculated about what kind of environment might await them inside.
Standing at the back of the group with Han Ju-oh, Seo-ha couldn’t see the gate because of the crowd, so he focused on something else instead: the bags and personal items each person had packed for the dungeon.
Seo-ha had prepared his own things too, of course—but now his shoulders and hands were light. That’s because Han Ju-oh had taken everything Seo-ha packed and carried it himself.
“Let me ask you something.”
Seo-ha turned toward him. It hadn’t been quite a month—maybe about three weeks? They’d spent a lot of time together in that period. Not enough to have deep heart-to-hearts, but at least enough to avoid growling at each other on sight.
“When you’re fighting… it’s okay if I carry your stuff, right?”
Han Ju-oh had refused to let him lift a finger before, so of course Seo-ha had to ask.
Han Ju-oh looked at him with pure annoyance, as if to say, What kind of pointless question is that?
“Got it. Loud and clear.”
Having asked what he needed, Seo-ha was about to face forward again—but then remembered something else.
“Hey… I’ve been meaning to ask, but I kept forgetting. Since that time, you haven’t called any other Espers into the training room, right?”
A few people nearby who were quietly eavesdropping flinched. The phrase “training room” had clearly struck a nerve, though no one said a word.
The Espers Seo-ha was thinking of were the ones he took care of in the dungeon. It seemed Han Ju-oh hadn’t called any of them back in.
Just a little more now, and they’d be entering. Seo-ha took a deep breath to steady himself. That’s when Han Ju-oh spoke.
“It’s my turn now.”
Seo-ha, who’d been rotating his shoulders to loosen up, turned to look at him again. What else could he possibly want to ask now…?
“You still think the match rate won’t change?”
The mention of match rate cast a shadow over Seo-ha’s face. The idea that the match rate might shift? Seo-ha, more than anyone, wanted that to be true—but that also meant he was the one least able to believe it.
“At the very least, not between us.”
“And if it does?”
That would mean their Special Pair Contract would change. But that wasn’t the answer Han Ju-oh was looking for.
Seo-ha gave it a moment’s thought, then let out a small laugh.
“Well, I’ll do whatever you ask.”
“Anything?”
“Sure, why not.”
Seo-ha waved a hand and chuckled softly.
“If it really happens, I’ll grant you a hundred wishes, no problem.”
He’d pamper Han Ju-oh as much as he wanted. Spoil him rotten, even.
“You said it yourself—you’d do it.”
Han Ju-oh marked the words like stamping a seal, then turned his gaze toward the gate with a different light in his eyes.
And finally, the gate opened.
Lol. That’s the flag!!!!