Han Ju-oh looked at the person entering through the door. A man in his thirties, wearing glasses that seemed unusually thick.
‘The thirteenth.’
The twelfth had been a young woman with waist-length, wavy hair. The eleventh, a middle-aged man. Before that… Their ages and genders varied, but they all shared one common trait.
They were all Guides.
When Han Ju-oh leaned his head back, the back of it touched the wall.
“Can Guiding even work if my hands are tied?”
“We were ordered not to untie you.”
The Guide shook his head and stepped forward. His wrists were bound and fastened to the wall, but there was no issue in making physical contact for Guiding. The man was visibly nervous as he approached, having heard that many Guides had failed before him.
He took Han Ju-oh’s hand and closed his eyes. Before entering this room, he’d been told: Just manage to Guide him, no matter what. Even 1% will be enough.
“I’ll begin the Guiding now.”
With that resolve, he sent his energy through.
“Ugh.”
In that instant, he felt a powerful recoil from the palm and instinctively released the hand. Startled, he looked up to find Han Ju-oh trembling. Not because something was wrong with his body—he was trying to hold back laughter.
“It’s not going to work.”
Once his laughter had died down, Han Ju-oh returned to his usual expression.
“I’m not going to accept it.”
His following words weren’t directed at the man but were more like a muttered declaration to himself. As if to say that no matter how many Guides were brought in from now on, he’d reject them all.
“If you keep doing that, the strain on your body will pile up. If something goes wrong…”
“I might explode.”
Han Ju-oh glanced around the room that was essentially his prison. A simple hexagonal space with nothing but a bed and a narrow table. He’d heard about this place before. A room built to contain Espers, crafted from metal retrieved after clearing a dungeon.
“Espers—indispensable, but too dangerous to keep close.”
They were human, yet not treated as such. Just seen as hunting dogs to be commanded. But what if that dog decided to sink its teeth into its master’s throat?
“But what are they going to do now?”
They’d snatched him up without warning and thrown him into this room, thinking they were being clever. How pathetic.
Han Ju-oh was an S-Class Esper. Especially one who could wield fire and wind. If he truly exploded, no metal in this room would be able to contain it.
“I think I’ve had enough. Go ahead and leave. I’m sure the next Guide’s waiting.”
With ease, Han Ju-oh saw the man off. The Guiding session was over anyway. Once he rejected the Guiding, there was no way for the energy to flow in again. Undoing that would take persistent effort—and Han Ju-oh wasn’t in the mood to bother.
‘89%.’
The man recalled the number displayed on Han Ju-oh’s watch. If it rose even a single percent, it would reach the critical stage. And if, at that point, no Guide could make it work…
‘I need to pack up and get the hell out of here.’
He bolted down the hallway, already planning to return home and leave the country with his family.
Recently, the Guides under the National Security Department had started disappearing, one by one. Today, he finally understood why.
***
“You sure you should just be sitting here like this?”
At Moon Roi’s question, Seo-ha set down the Americano he’d been sipping.
“If not here, then where?”
“I don’t know—maybe out there running around trying to find Han Ju-oh? But instead, you’re just lounging around without a care in the world.”
“What difference would it make if I did run around?”
As Seo-ha lifted the cup again, a droplet of condensation fell onto his pants. He put the cup down, half-heartedly wiped at the spot, and flopped back onto the sofa.
“That doesn’t mean you should just lie around like a slug.”
Moon Roi thumped his chest in frustration.
“Ian’s running around like crazy too, trying to find some way to help.”
“Good friend, that one.”
Seo-ha murmured while tracing the ceiling’s patterns with his eyes. Ian had volunteered to be dispatched and had entered the Gate twice—yet still hadn’t returned. Even as a dispatched Esper, Ian was doing everything he could to get his friend out, while Seo-ha, the actual partner, wasn’t doing a thing.
Seo-ha lazily lifted his head to grab the Americano, took a sip while lying on his side, and put it back. To Moon Roi, it must’ve looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel from watching such utter lethargy.
“Roi. It’s not that I’m doing nothing.”
Seo-ha mumbled, his face half-smushed into the cushion.
“You’re not doing anything right now. You’re just breathing.”
Seo-ha shook his head.
“I’m waiting, you know.”
“This is driving me insane.”
Moon Roi couldn’t take it anymore and shot to his feet. He began pacing in frustration before stopping to glare down at Seo-ha. Seo-ha, who had just raised his cup for another sip, flinched under his stare and stood up.
“Suddenly, I need to use the bathroom.”
Fidgeting with his waistband for no reason, Seo-ha dragged his feet as he left the room. His sluggish pace made it clear he wasn’t in a real hurry, and it drove Moon Roi up the wall. Just as he was about to say something—
“Guide Moon.”
Kim Beom-hak, who had been silent until now, called out to him. When Moon Roi turned around, Kim Beom-hak gave a subtle shake of his head—an unspoken order not to stop Seo-ha. Moon Roi let out a frustrated sigh and held back.
The moment Seo-ha exited the Director’s office, Moon Roi strode up to Kim Beom-hak and planted both hands on the desk.
“This isn’t the time to be sitting around like this!”
“I know.”
“Then we need to do something! Do you really think it’s acceptable to keep Han Ju-oh locked up like that?”
“I know that too.”
“What if Han Ju-oh has a rampage? What do you think that’ll do to Seo-ha?”
“I know. I know everything.”
Moon Roi let out a disbelieving breath.
“Then why do you keep just saying you know?”
“Guide Baek knows, too.”
“……”
Kim Beom-hak leaned forward toward Moon Roi, bringing their faces close. Feeling uncomfortable, Moon Roi tried to pull back, but Kim Beom-hak was faster. He grabbed Moon Roi’s jaw and cheek.
“Baek Seo-ha knows exactly what state his Esper is in. He’s not staying still because he doesn’t know. As proof…”
Kim suddenly turned Moon Roi’s face toward the table. All that was there was an Americano with a ring of condensation forming on the surface.
“That’s his fifth cup.”
“Fi’ cup?”
Moon Roi’s words came out muffled through Kim’s grip.
“Looks like he hasn’t been sleeping for days, scared something might happen while he’s out. He used to always order vanilla lattes, not this bitter stuff.”
Kim Beom-hak laid it out calmly, recounting what he’d observed from silently watching Seo-ha. Moon Roi couldn’t respond.
“No one’s more anxious than that guy right now. That’s why you don’t need to push him.”
“…I was wrong.”
Moon Roi’s expression fell, and Kim finally let go of his face.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re just worried—about someone else.”
Leaning back in his chair, Kim Beom-hak looked up at Moon Roi.
“You’re thinking about your friend, right? Of course you’re impatient. You’re scared something will go wrong again.”
Moon Roi’s older brother had once tried to imprint with Seo-ha, but their relationship ended in tragedy. Now that Seo-ha might suffer the same wound again, Kim Beom-hak seemed to understand precisely why Moon Roi was so desperate to save Han Ju-oh.
“Still, just watch. I’m sure he’s got something in mind.”
Kim muttered as he looked toward where Seo-ha had been sitting.
“But seriously, why do you guys keep coming here? Especially that damn Baek Seo-ha—he’s not even part of this Center…”
He trailed off with a muttered curse about these freeloaders taking over his office.
Seo-ha splashed his face with cold water over and over. The iced Americano hadn’t been enough to fight off the sleep deprivation, but the shock from the cold jolted his senses awake. Gasping for air, Seo-ha gripped the sink with both hands. Droplets of water dripped from his chin.
“Haah…”
Once he’d steadied himself a bit, Seo-ha looked up at the mirror. It was the same face he saw every day—but today, it looked especially pale. His eyes were sunken, lips tinged blue. Even his skin had gone ghostly white, a reflection of the nights he’d gone without proper rest.
“I can’t fall apart here.”
Seo-ha whispered to his reflection. He still hadn’t heard from Han Ju-oh. Not even the National Security Department, which was holding him, had reached out.
“That’s why I have to hold on.”
He couldn’t allow himself to collapse while spouting weak excuses. Han Ju-oh was still refusing all Guiding. He must be in pain, and yet he was enduring it—maybe just waiting for Seo-ha. So Seo-ha had to wait, too.
“The Director’s coffee beans are too sour. Maybe I’ll go to the café downstairs?”
Forcing a joke under his breath, Seo-ha left the bathroom. He’d thought of going to the café, but realistically, he wouldn’t. He didn’t have the energy to fuss over the taste of coffee right now. But that didn’t mean he was entirely out of ideas.
“Director, the beans in your office are too acidic. Can you buy me something from the café?”
Casually calling out as he entered, Seo-ha raised his head—then stopped in his tracks when he saw Moon Roi, phone pressed to his ear.
With a stiff expression, Moon Roi held the phone out to him.
“Take the call.”
