Han Ju-oh said it was something he had done. And that it was for the sake of conversation, no less. As Seo-ha recalled their exchange, a sudden thought crossed his mind.
‘Am I misinterpreting what he’s saying? Twisting his words around?’
He wondered if their conversations had gone awry all this time because he’d been taking Han Ju-oh’s words the wrong way.
When he glanced at Han Ju-oh to confirm, the man genuinely looked curious.
Assuming he wasn’t being sarcastic this time…
Seo-ha let out a faint chuckle and cast a playful look in his direction.
“I guess I forgot. It’s been a while.”
Han Ju-oh’s neatly drawn brows twitched, and his pupils seemed to retreat halfway. He shot an annoyed look Seo-ha’s way, but Seo-ha brushed it off lightly.
“I mean, no one else does it like that—so why am I the only one that guides that way… well, it’s like…”
If he was genuinely curious, there was no need to feel annoyed. All he had to do was give an answer that made sense. Back when he first started at the Center, he had been asked this kind of thing more than once. Those had been brief moments of relative peace, with no ill will behind the questions.
‘It’s been so long, I don’t even know if I can pull this off properly anymore.’
He cleared his throat.
“Inside me, energy is just overflowing like crazy. And the sheer amount of it is pretty intense, you know? If we put it in terms of libido, it’s like being able to go at it three days and nights straight—yeah? Not that I’d even flinch. The problem is, I can’t release it outward.”
These days, saying things like this was embarrassingly awkward, and it was getting harder to put up a front. Even just now, his voice had trembled slightly at the end. But unfortunately, this wasn’t the time to let it show, so he forced a smile.
“You wouldn’t flinch?”
When Han Ju-oh asked with wide, blank eyes, Seo-ha gave an exaggerated nod.
“Of course. I’m an A-rank. The moment I meet my match, it’s game over.”
It was like saying, But you’re only at 3% compatibility with me because you’re not my match. He already knew he wasn’t going to find his match any time soon, but he’d said this line so many times in the past that it rolled off his tongue effortlessly.
“Got it? I’m heading out.”
This must’ve been what Han Ju-oh was so curious about. The nuance was slightly off from what he’d asked, but it was close enough. He’d given a general answer, so he hoped there wouldn’t be any more questions.
Since Han Ju-oh hadn’t meant it in a bad way, Seo-ha even tried to liven the mood by raising his tone slightly in reply.
Now Han Ju-oh should give him a look of disbelief and just turn away, right? After all, he already knew Seo-ha couldn’t guide anymore. There was no point expecting anything else.
“You’ve got a funny way of talking.”
Han Ju-oh let out a dry laugh as he spoke—but there was something strange about it. His reaction wasn’t what Seo-ha had anticipated. Especially with those veins starting to bulge subtly across his face, the mood had taken a darker turn.
“So you’re saying I’m not your match?”
“That’s….”
“Wow. You just laughed while dissing me. What if I end up being the one to go those three days and nights with you?”
At that, Seo-ha dropped the forced smile from his face. They both knew the compatibility between them was only 3%. So why was he suddenly acting like he might be the match?
“If you start trying to look good when that time comes, it’ll be too late.”
“I have no intention of trying to look good, though.”
“Then you’d better stay that shameless.”
Seo-ha’s eyes turned sharp.
“I hope you keep that glare, too.”
Han Ju-oh’s calm, composed response—treating even his glare like a response—made Seo-ha turn his head away. He didn’t want to engage with him anymore.
“He just twists everything I say into whatever the hell he wants.”
Seo-ha muttered loud enough for Han Ju-oh to hear and turned his back. He didn’t want to deal with him any longer.
‘Feels like he’s burning a hole through my back.’
***
Moon Roi stretched his arms up high and let out a tired sigh, mumbling in a groggy tone.
“I’m exhausted even though I didn’t do anything.”
“What do you mean you didn’t do anything? You were guiding.”
Sure, it was Han Ju-oh who took down everything from sandworms to bird-type monsters, but it wasn’t like the other Espers hadn’t put in any effort. Moon Roi had been busily running around, guiding them.
“Right. My role’s not to eliminate monsters, but to support the Espers. So yeah, I’m allowed to be tired.”
As Seo-ha explained, Moon Roi nodded naively, then suddenly jerked his head up. Unfortunately, the sand clinging to his hair ended up falling right onto Seo-ha’s face—who was slightly shorter than him.
Reflexively, Seo-ha closed his eyes and turned his head away, but he didn’t manage to avoid all of it. His mouth felt gritty with sand. He told him to brush it off thoroughly before coming out.
Seo-ha roughly dusted off his own face, then gave Moon Roi a once-over from head to toe.
“You need to go wash up. Immediately.”
“Me? I’m not the only one covered in sand. Just brushing it off the surface isn’t enough, you know? Try checking your own pockets.”
Moon Roi cried out indignantly, and just as he looked about ready to start turning Seo-ha’s pockets inside out himself—he reached out his hand.
“Don’t you get told you’re an idiot a lot?”
The voice came from behind—words Seo-ha desperately hoped weren’t meant for him. Both Moon Roi and Seo-ha turned around at the same time.
The one who spoke was Han Ju-oh. And depending on where his gaze landed, their reactions split starkly. Moon Roi, not the idiot in question, clicked his tongue with sympathy, while Seo-ha, apparently the idiot, just blinked.
“You don’t mean that because I look like I hear it a lot… right?”
Seo-ha pointed to himself with his index finger. In moments like this, the only acceptable answer was no.
“Yes.”
The exact opposite response. Seo-ha stared up at Han Ju-oh in a daze. From the first moment they met, he’d seemed like someone full of rage. Then again, how many Espers had pleasant personalities? Still, did he have to be so damn aggravating every single time?
“How do I come off as dumb? Seriously, I don’t get why you’d say something like that…”
They were already out of the gate, and most people hadn’t left yet. But Seo-ha didn’t need to play nice anymore. He was quitting anyway, no need to watch his words.
“They say you see what you’re full of—so what makes you think you’re so damn great?”
Seo-ha’s retort aimed at Han Ju-oh drew gasps from all around. So what if they were shocked? Just because the guy was S-class didn’t mean he had to cower in front of him.
“I knew you were an asshole the moment you started dropping honorifics even though we’re the same age. But don’t you think this is a bit much?”
Once his mouth opened, everything just poured out.
“Demanding an answer the moment you ask a question is already ridiculous enough, but now it’s ‘Don’t you get called dumb?’ Are you serious?”
Had they even met more than three times?
And yet every single encounter was seared into his memory. Well, of course—he’s an S-class who awakened at the top of the food chain, so someone like Seo-ha, just a Guide, probably seemed like trash to him.
Still, why show up now, when Seo-ha was finally quitting, just to dig into him like this?
“I’ve been told I’m useless so many times it’s practically branded on my forehead, but dumb? That’s new.”
Honestly, Seo-ha admitted it—this was just venting. He’d handled worse from Espers in the past without breaking composure. But now, just a few words from Han Ju-oh had cracked him.
Maybe he was just picking a fight with Han Ju-oh as an outlet for all his pent-up resentment.
Still, so what? It was Han Ju-oh’s bad luck.
“So just don’t worry about me. Focus on yourself. It’s not like we were ever gonna be a good match anyway.”
Someone like Han Ju-oh would have no shortage of Guides throwing themselves at him.
“Actually, even if you want to see me from now on, you won’t be able to. I’m leaving this damn world behind. So you do you—keep slaying monsters like your dick’s about to fall off. Hope you live a great life.”
Seo-ha flashed him a bright, radiant smile and turned away without a hint of regret. Letting it all out felt so good, it really made him think submitting that resignation letter was the best decision of his life.
***
On his last morning at the Guide Center, Seo-ha strolled down the hallway in the best mood he’d had in ages.
“No more gates, ever again.”
No more preparing for unpredictable monsters. No more risking his life.
“No more guiding, either.”
There weren’t any Espers waiting for his guidance anyway, so no one would be sad to see him go—and he didn’t feel sad either. Maybe it was because he’d gone into the gate twice even after submitting his resignation. Whatever lingering attachments he might’ve had were gone. Maybe Director Kim shoved him into the gate on purpose to sever those last emotional ties.
“It’s a relief I don’t have any regrets.”
Meeting Han Ju-oh had sucked, but thanks to him, Seo-ha was able to walk away from this job completely. He did wonder if he’d gone too far with his words, but the thought passed quickly. If anything, Han Ju-oh had said way worse.
Once the guilt faded, he started seeing the upside.
“Yeah. It wasn’t all bad.”
He figured Han Ju-oh had actually done a decent job of slapping him with a dose of reality. Seo-ha looked around, face refreshed, thinking this might be the last time he ever walked this path to the director’s office.
“Before I start farming… maybe I should learn how to cook? Opening a restaurant doesn’t sound half-bad either.”
He used to wonder what he’d do with his life. But now? He felt like he could do anything. Just like the light, lively sound of his footsteps echoing through the hallway, his future felt just as bright and unburdened.
Everything was supposed to fall into place perfectly…
“Excuse me? What do you mean… the resignation hasn’t been processed?”
Seo-ha stared at Kim Beom-hak with stunned eyes. This wasn’t part of the plan.
No—he’d said everything thinking he was quitting. Burned all the bridges.Told Han Ju-oh every damn thing he wasn’t supposed to say!
