“Your clothes got pretty dirty today, huh?”
“Y-Yes…”
Nabin barely managed to answer, his body trembling. From the moment he faced Kim Minsu, he couldn’t meet his eyes, his shoulders drawn tightly inward.
He desperately hoped the reason Kim Minsu had come to see him was nothing serious. But that hope faltered when Kim Minsu’s rough hand, reeking of strong cologne, brushed against the trembling corner of his eye.
The large hand was covered in scars, proof that Kim Minsu hadn’t lived an easy life. On the back of his hand, there were fresh wounds, still capped with uneven scabs.
The coarse fingertips grazed Nabin’s sensitive skin, and he instinctively flinched backward. Kim Minsu’s faint smile deepened. A thin layer of frost seemed to settle over his dry eyes.
Tak.
“Ugh…”
“Don’t pull away. Not unless you want to go through something even worse.”
Kim Minsu gripped Nabin’s chin so hard it felt like he might snap it. The violent pressure left fresh pain layered over skin already red from the cold. Speaking in a low, biting tone from so close their lips could almost touch, Kim Minsu forced Nabin to hide his moist, quivering gaze beneath his eyelids, unable to look away.
“…Yes.”
Biting his lip hard to hold back his tears, Nabin gave a subdued, obedient reply. Only then did Kim Minsu release the iron grip on his chin.
Looking at the mark left on that pale skin, Kim Minsu felt a sharp pull low in his stomach. He thought back on all the years he’d restrained himself. He had endured until the immature boy grew into an adult.
And the boy had grown just the way Kim Minsu wanted. His skin, though roughened by hardship, was so pale it almost seemed translucent—something that stirred a cruel impulse every time he saw it. Kim Minsu decided it was time to act on things he had only imagined until now.
“Come with me.”
“W-Where…?”
“So, our Nabin thinks he can talk back now, just because he’s an adult?”
Without thinking, Nabin had answered back to Kim Minsu, a slip he wouldn’t normally have made. Usually, he would have followed meekly. But something felt off.
There were still several days left before the payment deadline. It wasn’t even a collection day, which made Kim Minsu’s sudden visit unsettling. Nabin wanted nothing more than to get away, to run somewhere he could be free of him.
A vague sense of dread told him that following Kim Minsu would lead to a hell worse than the one he was already in. The slight frown on Kim Minsu’s face, as if displeased by Nabin’s words, felt even more menacing than usual.
But there was no way Nabin could run. Kim Minsu held a hostage who could be used to control him—Nabin’s own mother. As long as she was in his grasp, there was no escape, no matter how much Nabin wanted to fight.
Kim Minsu always kept his loyal subordinates near the place where Nabin’s mother stayed. They were the kind of men who would report directly to him the moment they saw any sign Nabin was trying to flee.
As Kim Minsu’s expression twisted further, Nabin forced his trembling legs to move closer to him. Only then did Kim Minsu ease his expression, turning his back and heading down the steep alley.
Like a dog on a leash, Nabin followed behind. Even when he staggered, looking as though he might collapse at any moment, Kim Minsu only gave him a sideways glance—never slowing his pace, never stopping.
Their destination turned out to be the city center. Nabin grew more confused as they approached a familiar building. Not just familiar—this was a place every citizen in Korea would recognize.
When Kim Minsu stopped, Nabin halted behind him and glanced up at the white building. It was so tall that he had to crane his neck just to glimpse the faint outline of the roof.
At the front stood a massive stone marker engraved with the words K Ability User Center.
“You turned twenty this year, Nabin. We can’t be sure, so you need to get tested.”
Kim Minsu’s hand gripped Nabin’s shoulder as he revealed why he’d brought him here. In Korea, everyone was required to visit the Ability User Center at age twenty to be tested for potential as an Esper or a Guide.
Most people awakened around that age, so it made sense that Nabin needed to be tested too. The test was mandatory, and anyone who refused without a valid reason faced government sanctions. Almost everyone took it unless they had truly exceptional circumstances.
Looking at the carved name on the stone marker, a flicker of hope sparked in Nabin’s eyes. If he became an Esper or a Guide, he could earn far more than as a Miner. If he awakened at C-rank or higher, he might even have a real chance to clear the mountain of debt that currently had no end in sight.
“Looks like you’re excited. I’m excited too.”
Kim Minsu’s voice carried a trace of amusement. His gaze, fixed on Nabin as though he could read his every thought, was filled with unhidden delight.
Realizing his mistake, Nabin quickly lowered his head. How could he have let his inner hope slip in front of Kim Minsu—that he might pay off his debt and break free? That was careless. But contrary to his fears, Kim Minsu didn’t seem offended by the thought at all.
“Let’s go in. They’ll be closing soon.”
He spoke in a casual tone, simply taking hold of Nabin’s arm and leading him toward the center. Nabin followed Kim Minsu inside. When both his parents had still been alive, he had visited the center with them a few times.
He remembered how the towering building had left him in awe back then. His father had even hoisted him up on his shoulders so he could get a better look.
“What brings you here today?”
“We’re here for an Ability User aptitude test.”
“Will both of you be taking the test?”
“No. I’m the guardian—he’s the one being tested.”
“Then I’ll issue two visitor passes. Please make sure you both wear them.”
“Sure.”
A security guard stood at the entrance of the building. After stating their purpose, Kim Minsu accepted the visitor passes, hanging one around his own neck before placing the other around Nabin’s. Nabin fiddled with the pass resting against his chest, glancing around.
Inside, the center bustled with people coming and going. Whenever Nabin spotted someone around his parents’ age, he found himself unable to take his eyes off them. But when they looked back at him with puzzled expressions, he would quickly avert his gaze, repeating the same cycle again and again.
With practiced familiarity, Kim Minsu approached the reception desk, signed Nabin in, and led him toward the testing room. There were only a few people waiting—perhaps because the center was close to closing time.
“Kim Nabin, please come into the testing room.”
It wasn’t long before Nabin was called in. The staff member greeted him with a neutral expression and quickly rattled off the instructions for the test.
“Place your hand here.”
In the stark white space, the blue-glowing stone stood out immediately. Even the cylindrical pedestal holding it was the same color as the room, making it seem at first glance as if the stone were floating in midair.
Following the instructions, Nabin slowly stepped toward the stone. The test was simple—just place your hand on it. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it right away.
He knew this result could change the course of his life. His visibly trembling hand finally lowered onto the stone.
As soon as his fingers touched the faintly glowing surface, Nabin squeezed his eyes shut. Please, please, please… at least C-rank. No, B-rank would be even better…
Both of Nabin’s parents had been B-rank Ability Users. It wasn’t a guaranteed inheritance, but children of Ability Users often awakened as well—more so when both parents had abilities. It wasn’t an empty hope.
But since the day his father died, nothing in Nabin’s life had gone the way he wished. The day he finally gave in to reality and submitted his withdrawal form from school, he had cried on the street until the top of his uniform was soaked through.
Unable to claw the pain from his chest, he had gripped the wet fabric until it crumpled in his fists. To some, a school uniform was just something worn every day without thought, but to Nabin, it was something he’d wanted to wear for just a little longer.
There was nothing he could do but cry over a life where even going to school had become impossible. His gentle nature made it hard for him to blame anyone, so he held onto his bruised heart and simply wept.
He hadn’t been asking for much—just to pay off the suffocating debt, to have a small room where he and his mother could live together peacefully. Even if it broke his body, he wanted an honest job he could be proud of until his mother regained her health.
But his modest wish was like a candle flame, snuffed out by a sudden, merciless gust before it could even burn steady.
The staff member’s eyes widened for a brief moment as they looked at Nabin’s result. Rolling up their sleeves, they double-checked the reading.
“…D-Did… the result come out?”
Nabin bit his lip nervously before asking first. The result was clearly already there, but the staff’s restless movements only made his unease grow. He couldn’t tell why they were acting that way, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.
With a sympathetic expression, the staff member carefully handed him a single sheet of paper bearing his test results.
The rank printed clearly at the top told Nabin, yet again, that his prayers had gone unheard.
Nooo😭 our poor Nabin!