There was a time in life when things like this happened.
After receiving the test result that branded him a D-rank Guide, Nabin’s life had descended into hell. Now, though, the Center had come for him, saying even D-ranks had their uses. Like two sides of the same coin, Nabin hadn’t changed at all, yet the circumstances around him had shifted overnight.
As a Guide, he’d most likely end up working with Espers. Whatever the job turned out to be, it had to be better than the life he’d endured in the parlors.
Even the meals they brought him were proof enough—the difference in treatment was staggering. The infirmary he stayed in now was far better than the hospital room his mother had originally occupied.
“Your mother will be moved to the ward tomorrow. Guide Kim Nabin, you’ll have a meeting with the Center Director first, then be introduced to the Espers you’ll be Guiding. So for today, don’t worry about anything. Just rest.”
“Y-yes… th-thank you…”
Kim Su-hyun sensed that Nabin wouldn’t rest comfortably with him around, so he left the infirmary with Noh Si-woo. When he had rescued Nabin’s mother, he’d checked her condition. Luckily, she hadn’t been injured, so he had simply run his healing mana through her once.
Since she would be admitted to the ward tomorrow and begin proper treatment, what Su-hyun had done for now was enough. He couldn’t shake the image of Nabin’s pale face crumbling in relief the moment he saw his mother. At least he could be grateful that he’d been able to bring her back safely.
Click.
The infirmary door shut behind them. Si-woo, walking quickly to keep up, still kept glancing back at the door, unable to stop worrying about Nabin.
“Esper Kim Su-hyun, the Espers that Guide Kim Nabin will be assigned to tomorrow… they’re a little…”
As he recalled exactly who Nabin would be meeting, Si-woo’s expression clouded with concern. Those men were far from normal.
“They’re lunatics.”
“Yes… lunatics.”
Si-woo pressed his lips tightly together to hold back a laugh. Everyone called them lunatics in their hearts, but few dared to say it aloud.
Only someone like Su-hyun could get away with such words—an A-rank Esper, a healer no less, whose presence was valued everywhere. And since Si-woo himself had been tormented by them plenty of times, Su-hyun’s bluntness felt like a breath of fresh air, easing a weight off his chest.
But the moment his thoughts drifted back to Nabin, his face darkened again. He hadn’t known him long, but it was enough to realize that, beneath his meek appearance, Nabin was far too fragile.
He was the sort of person who’d burst into tears over something as simple as a boxed lunch. The life he had endured before coming to the Center had been closer to abuse than anything else, its scars etched into his every action.
Si-woo had never once been told he looked intimidating. With his ever-present smile, even children who’d just met him would brighten and laugh without hesitation.
Yet Nabin flinched whenever he moved or whenever his smile dimmed for even a second, watching him nervously as if afraid. It was impossible not to see just how easily Nabin was frightened by the smallest gestures.
Of course, the Espers he’d be Guiding weren’t the same people who had abused him—but still, the worry gnawed at them. The truth was, those Espers might even prove worse, and that thought made Si-woo uneasy.
The S-rank trio, according to other Guides, were all abnormal in their own ways. Even the most hot-tempered Esper instinctively softened toward their Guide, but not them.
Unless it was the one specific Guide they clung to, they were more openly hostile toward other Guides than they were to fellow Espers.
It had gotten so bad that whenever the order came down to Guide them, the Center’s Guides would suddenly fall sick en masse, apply for field assignments, or beg for transfers abroad—even to posts infamous for their backbreaking work.
Su-hyun knew this all too well, which was why his expression darkened just like Si-woo’s. But there was nothing they could do. Nabin was a D-rank Guide. If it weren’t for the shockingly high compatibility rates he had shown with those three S-rank Espers—rates unheard of with anyone else—the Center never would have bothered to take him in.
But the Center wasn’t a charity. Its slogan might promise the protection of the people and the nation, and it was technically a national institution, but ever since monsters appeared, the Center wielded more real power than the Blue House itself.
The Center operated strictly on merit. In the world of Espers and Guides, rank was practically the same as social class.
S-ranks were treated like royalty. A-ranks received nearly the same treatment—there weren’t many S-ranks to begin with, and it was usually the A-ranks who were sent to clear the hardest dungeons and missions.
Even B-ranks lived decently. They weren’t at the top, but they were valued enough that people admired them with respect.
But starting from C-rank, things were different. C-ranks were ambiguous. Compared to ordinary people, their powers were impressive, but in the Esper world, they were minor.
Most C-rank Espers ended up working desk jobs inside the Center rather than going out into the field. From the Center’s perspective, it was more convenient to have low-ranked Espers handling the paperwork than ordinary civilians.
As for D-ranks—they were essentially dismissed. They were hardly different from regular people, and the Center had little reason to manage them. Their names and information might be listed in the registry, but most D-ranks lived ordinary lives.
Managing even a single Esper cost astronomical sums. Espers paid back that investment many times over, so the Center never hesitated to invest heavily at the start.
But D-ranks? To the Center, they were no more than a leaky bucket—no matter how much you poured in, the return was negligible.
That was the precarious position Nabin was in. The only reason the Center had pulled him out was because of his rare, high compatibility with those three S-rank Espers—a phenomenon unheard of with anyone else.
If the Center decided he wasn’t useful, they’d throw him right back out. That was simply the way things worked. The Center didn’t move with sentiment—it moved with cold pragmatism, for the sake of keeping the machine running.
Even the Center Director, known publicly as a warm-hearted man, was no exception. His generosity only extended to high-ranked Espers worth investing in. His so-called kindness depended entirely on who stood before him.
To him, a D-rank Guide was nothing more than a stone on the roadside. Under normal circumstances, he never would have ordered anyone to bring Nabin in at all. He’d long turned a blind eye to the exploitation of D-rank Guides in illegal parlors.
Both Su-hyun and Si-woo let out a heavy sigh. Nabin had already suffered so much—they wanted him to finally have a chance at happiness. But even that, it seemed, would not come easily.
In their eyes, it was as if Nabin’s path forward stretched out like a thorn-covered road he’d be forced to walk barefoot.
***
“Guide Kim Nabin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Ah… hello…”
Nabin hesitated as he reached out to clasp the large hand extended toward him. The moment their palms touched, a sharp jolt of pain shot through him, and his hand recoiled instinctively.
“You’ve got quite a strong repulsion with me.”
The Director’s eyes, fixed on Nabin as he blushed and fumbled in embarrassment, grew cold as frost. Whatever hope he’d briefly held evaporated at once.
Han Chul-yong.
He had held the position of Center Director since the day the K Ability User Center was founded. An S-rank Physical Esper—enhancement type—whose powerful frame made it hard to believe he was well past seventy.
That strength was what allowed him to hold onto both the Director’s chair and frontline duty even at his age. Despite his kindly, grandfatherly appearance, he was calculating and shrewd, and those who knew him never let themselves be fooled.
Since awakening as an S-rank Esper, he’d walked nothing but a smooth road of success. Yet recently, his greatest source of worry was the trio of S-rank Espers whose compatibility with Guides was abysmally low.
The three had lost their parents to monsters when they were young and had grown up together in the same orphanage, forging a bond like brothers. Their closeness was the reason he allowed them to remain inseparable, even when they caused major incidents. The reason was simple: they were S-rank Espers, each worth a fortune. No matter how much trouble they stirred up, they were never seriously punished.
But then came the problem—their compatibility with Guides was catastrophically low. One case alone would’ve been a nightmare, but all three of them? It was a disaster.
If they had only been A-rank, he would have left them to waste away on Guiding machines, barely surviving until their end. A-rank Espers were valuable, but not irreplaceable.
S-ranks, however, were another matter. In today’s world, a nation’s power was measured by how many S-rank Espers and Guides it possessed.
South Korea had a relatively high proportion of top-ranked ability users compared to its population. The higher the nation’s prestige, the greater the Center Director’s power became in turn.
And having once tasted power, he had no intention of letting it go until the day he died. To maintain it, he couldn’t allow the number of S-rank Espers to dwindle. Even if he couldn’t increase their numbers, he could not afford to lose a single one.
