Chapter 6
Raon was a child blessed with charm and a radiant smile—beloved by everyone around him. As the youngest son of a wealthy family, it didn’t matter whether he excelled at anything; he was adored simply for being healthy and growing up well. The people around him indulged his every whim, making him more self-centered by the day, but no one seemed to care.
That was who Kang Raon was supposed to be. He could live happily at the top of the world, enjoying everything he wanted and desired.
Because of this, he didn’t live according to anyone else’s expectations or wishes—he lived exactly as he pleased.
On his sixteenth birthday, he swept through the luxury section of a department store, buying everything that caught his eye. He threw a lavish party at home and invited his close friends, but the restless teenagers were far more interested in virtual reality games than the celebration itself.
While everyone wore their headsets, battling it out in virtual reality, Raon collapsed. When he opened his eyes again, he was at NCSC.
There had been one person who watched Raon’s self-centered lifestyle with growing concern. His mother had placed him in NCSC hoping to correct the habits of her immature son who lived recklessly for his own pleasure. She believed that NCSC, with its strict rules and hierarchy, could instill some discipline in him.
Even after manifesting as an S-class Guide, Raon had no intention of actually living as one. Sacrifice and consideration for others weren’t his style at all. When he was classified as C-class instead, Raon was happier than he’d ever been. From that moment on, his life at NCSC became even more carefree. After all, he only had to endure six months.
But this boy seemed different. It was as if no one had ever told him he could live however he wanted.
“Just take it easy. Seriously, take it easy. The people here are desperate to hold onto anyone with high abilities. They’ll exploit you. Send you into danger. They might even assign you a Guide against your will. How fucked up would that be?”
It probably wasn’t the right thing for a sixteen-year-old to say to a ten-year-old child, but Raon didn’t care about things like that.
“I mean, if you love your Guide and your Guide loves you back, then sure—happy ending. But if not? That would be the absolute worst. And what if they force a bond on you? Jesus. That’s truly a nightmare scenario. That’s why I’m not going to learn guiding. If I don’t know how to do it, they can’t make me. Besides, I’m C-class, so I don’t need it anyway.”
Without knowing how the child was taking his words, Raon rambled on. He poured out thoughts he’d never shared with anyone. As he continued muttering for a while, his voice gradually grew slower and quieter until it faded away completely.
In the darkness, the child’s tightly closed eyes opened.
There were too many sounds in the world. Sounds he was forced to hear even when he didn’t want to—they were agonizing. The overlapping voices of people. Everyday noises like chairs scraping, people chewing, the buzz of a TV. On particularly sensitive days, he could even hear water flowing from far away. All of it mixed together and echoed endlessly in his head.
If he didn’t consciously suppress it, he could see through walls. Unwanted smells would assault his senses. The clothes clinging to his body felt unbearably rough.
Whether his eyes were open or closed, Jaehwi had to exert constant effort. He had to try not to hear what he heard, not to see what he saw, not to feel what he felt—pouring all his energy into these desperate attempts. The moment he stopped, even briefly, hell would break loose. He believed his future held only madness or an agonizing death.
He could still feel the warmth of the hand that had covered his ear. For once, he had no bandwidth to register the rough texture of his clothes. Through his other ear, he’d heard the steady rhythm of Raon’s heartbeat. Without any effort on his part, all the sounds filling his head had vanished, leaving only that reassuring beat. The corner of Jaehwi’s mouth lifted slightly.
A subtle scent lingered at the tip of his nose. He filtered out the common smells—fabric softener and the like—that came from everyone. Jaehwi slowly closed his eyes again, focusing on the faintly sweet scent of Raon’s breath and the smell of his skin. Without having to summon all his strength, he couldn’t hear, see, feel, or smell anything else.
His entire world had narrowed to Kang Raon alone.
It felt as if heaven had taken pity on him crying out for salvation and sent down an angel.
Raon visited Jaehwi’s room every night, holding him as they lay in bed together. Some nights he’d fidget with Jaehwi’s forehead and hair, some nights his arms, and some nights he’d pat his back. When they were together, Raon did the talking and Jaehwi listened in silence.
Jaehwi’s responses were limited to small nods or blinks. But Raon knew he was listening to his words more intently than anyone ever had. That’s why he talked about everything.
With his natural curiosity and love for new experiences, Raon’s life had always been full of interesting events. Having flown on planes far more often than he’d ridden buses or subways, Raon told him about his favorite countries and travel destinations. He described how beautiful the Milky Way was, how wonderful it felt to play outside until late during the white nights, how fun it was to surf in warm seas.
He said that lying in a hammock on a yacht watching the sunset was pure happiness, and that skiing down a snowy slope was absolute exhilaration.
Among all the stories, Jaehwi particularly loved the travel stories and the school stories. Raon always told him the ones he wanted to hear most.
Some nights Raon fell asleep first, other nights Jaehwi did.
The NCSC staff, taking notice of their unusual behavior, confirmed that no actual guiding was taking place between them and chose not to intervene.
Even when reviewing the CCTV footage from Jaehwi’s room, all they ever did was lie side by side on the narrow bed, talk, play around, and fall asleep.
Strangely enough, after spending time with Raon, Jaehwi’s stabilization rate never dropped below fifty percent.
Jaehwi’s official re-evaluation result was, of course, S-class.
And he was immediately thrown into training. There was no reason for the now-stabilized Jaehwi to remain confined to a single room. Jaehwi, who had been like a blank white canvas, absorbed everything he learned at a frightening pace. The remarkable progress of their youngest Esper drew attention from everyone at the center. His performance exceeded all expectations. Along with this, the skinny, small boy began to grow rapidly.
Worried about Jaehwi suffering from sudden growth spurts and training that seemed designed to constantly push him past his limits, Raon picked up a pen on someone else’s behalf for the first time in his life.
Raon knew how to leverage what he had.
In a few months, it was obvious—he would leave according to standard procedure, while Jaehwi would be left behind at NCSC alone.
Having grown up in an orphanage and now under NCSC jurisdiction, Jaehwi had no official guardian. The ruthless adults had thrown him into extreme training the moment they deemed him stabilized. Even when Jaehwi struggled in difficult situations, there wasn’t a single adult here to protect him.
Jaehwi said it was much better than the orphanage, that he was doing well and working hard, but Raon wasn’t okay with it. He couldn’t leave this child behind to be exploited by the state like some kind of tool.
He wrote a heartfelt letter to his mother. He planned to take Jaehwi with him the day he left.
He wanted the MK Center, not NCSC, to guide Jaehwi’s path. He wanted to watch him grow up safely, right by his side. After meeting Jaehwi, Raon hadn’t caused a single problem. His mother would grant his request.
He didn’t tell Jaehwi, but he’d also learned contact guiding for his sake. He would channel energy through his palm to stroke Jaehwi’s body as the boy whimpered softly in shallow sleep, suffering from growing pains and the aftereffects of brutal training.
Raon had heard that his guiding was clumsy, that Jaehwi was an Esper who couldn’t accept guiding properly—but he wasn’t in any hurry. He didn’t believe the adults who worshipped their numerical data. If this gentle, spring breeze-like sensation wasn’t guiding, there was no way to explain why Jaehwi, who endured such grueling training and testing, maintained a stability level hovering around fifty percent.
Besides, when he caressed and touched him gently like this, Jaehwi didn’t seem to suffer—he would soon fall into deep sleep, breathing steadily.
“Hyung.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t do it.”
Jaehwi’s voice, having just woken up, came out low and hoarse. At the unsteady sound, Raon smiled slightly and let the energy gathered in his hand dissipate.
Strangely, Jaehwi disliked it when Raon guided him. He’d stay still when Raon simply stroked his head or touched him normally, but the moment he infused energy, Jaehwi would notice immediately and refuse. That’s why Raon only did it while he slept—but tonight he’d woken up.
“What did I do?”
“Guiding.”
Jaehwi, who had been lying down, slowly sat up.
“You could tell I was guiding?”
“I have nothing I can give you in return, hyung.”
As the usually silent boy revealed his inner thoughts today, Raon’s eyes lit up with interest. But the words coming from Jaehwi’s mouth weren’t exactly what he’d hoped to hear.
