“You’re here?”
The woman who had been gazing out the window slowly turned around. Standing at the doorway, Hyeseong raised his hand to his right temple in a salute that was dry yet carried a sense of discipline.
“Peace. Director Kang Hyeseong.”
“Sit.”
Hyeseong strode confidently into the office that felt alien in its cleanliness and stark whiteness. The woman who had been strolling by the window and observing the outside also took a seat across from him. The red cape draped over her uniform fluttered with dignity. It was the attire symbolizing her position as the head of the Esper and Guide Security Bureau.
Director Kwon Mihyeon smiled deeply and gestured with her eyes toward the teacup on the table.
“Would you like some tea? The aroma is quite lovely.”
“Please speak. I have a meeting at 2 o’clock.”
The response from the green subordinate was utterly rigid, but Director Kwon smiled without taking offense. She had had him under her command for well over ten years now. He was someone who had started his military life at the young age of fourteen and had quietly devoted his loyalty ever since.
“Are you feeling alright?”
Hyeseong didn’t answer. He knew well enough that the implication behind the question wasn’t merely concern directed at him alone.
“I monitored your wavelength flow, and this time too, it was piercing the sky.”
The calm voice threw a fastball immediately.
“I don’t suppose guiding potions alone will be enough anymore, will they?”
“I’m fine.”
“How long do you plan to refuse forming a pair?”
“……”
The Director regularly called him in to preach about the importance of guiding, but this was the first time she’d been so direct. Hyeseong silently stared at the teacup with steam rising from it.
“Hyeseong. People, you see, act as though they’ll remember past events and people who are gone for a very, very long time—forever even… but that’s not really true.”
Hyeseong’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly.
“In the end, they get covered over. By present memories and by the person beside you now. Just like how old crust gradually descends to become strata, and new materials constantly layer over it to form new crust. That’s the natural order of the world.”
“……”
“What happened to Yeonwoo wasn’t your fault. You know that. So please, let that go now and……”
“Director.”
A cold voice cut her off.
“I’ve made myself clear. I don’t need a dedicated guide.”
“……”
“I know it must look like a child throwing a tantrum to you, Director, but this is a decision made with consideration for both myself and the guide in question. What guide could possibly form a pair with me?”
The greater the grade difference between an Esper and a Guide, the lower the matching rate and the greater the rejection response. The Center had a small number of A-grade guides registered, but none who were suitable as Hyeseong’s dedicated guide. They either already had an imprinted partner, or their matching rate with Hyeseong was so dismally low that they couldn’t endure the rejection response.
Even setting that aside, Hyeseong himself had an extremely severe guiding rejection response. The diagnostic examiners cautiously speculated it was due to psychological factors.
After Guide Park Yeonwoo, who had been Kang Hyeseong’s dedicated guide, died, he displayed extreme aversion to the act of guiding. This was despite never having imprinted with her, and despite their relationship not being that kind either.
Even while leading a frontline unit and clearing countless gates in a way that left other teams unable to keep up, Hyeseong stubbornly refused to receive guiding. He would endure as much as possible by injecting wavelength suppressants or using guiding potions, and only when he reached his limit would he receive emergency guiding from the support team leaders. Even that was just basic guiding—holding hands while wearing guiding gloves—so the effect wasn’t significant.
Naturally, the Esper and Guide Security Bureau couldn’t just overlook this problem. The Director and all high-ranking officials anxiously monitored Kang Hyeseong’s condition. These were issues that had been ongoing for three years since ‘that incident.’
“But, Hyeseong.”
The Director, who had taken a sip of tea, set down her cup and raised her eyes.
“A new guide joined R1, didn’t they? For the first time in years.”
Hyeseong’s gaze changed. She wasn’t someone who sat in the Director’s seat simply because she was an A-grade Esper. She was always a superior he was loyal to and respected, but whenever he was reminded of that fact, it never felt pleasant.
“Don’t look at me like that. Are you worried I’ll threaten or something that young, innocent child?”
She smiled sweetly.
“Director Kang Hyeseong. I’ve heard the general story. You’ve been together with that child since childhood, right? And besides, that child has a weak constitution.”
“……”
“I’m just telling you to do a simple matching rate test. Director Kang, you know it too. Since they’ve awakened as an A-grade guide, they’re obligated to take matching rate tests with all Espers of A-grade and above.”
He couldn’t deny the Director’s words. A-grade guides were even rarer than A-grade Espers. When a guide with high-purity purification energy and an Esper with massive wavelengths formed a pair, they could demonstrate surprisingly powerful synergy and combat ability, so the Esper and Guide Security Bureau, which pursued extreme efficiency, required all guides of A-grade and above to take matching tests with all Espers.
“I’m simply suggesting one method. Director Kang, you essentially reign over all the Espers in the Esper and Guide Security Bureau. Who would dare covet a guide you’ve claimed first? Even if the matching rate between Director Kang and that child isn’t at a significant level.”
A guide claimed first.
Hyeseong quietly frowned. Before being the head of this place, Director Kwon was an Esper, and no matter how much she tried to hide it, the possessiveness characteristic of Espers inevitably seeped through her manner of speech.
Even though being treated as an available resource as both an ability user and a soldier wasn’t a new occurrence, it was extremely unpleasant to hear her speak that way about Yeoul rather than himself.
However, as unpleasant as the Director’s words were to hear, they weren’t false.
The moment he happened to overhear the Esper team leaders whispering among themselves in the waiting room behind the examination room, Hyeseong felt an unfamiliar emotion. It was an emotion he hadn’t felt even when facing countless monster entities, or when dealing with the countless machinations of high-ranking officials who had tried to use him right after he enlisted in the Security Bureau.
Though they were called monster life forms, killing countless things that breathed and lived inevitably left dark shadows and dregs accumulating in his heart. Hyeseong had been living his life burying those impurities indifferently.
However, when he saw those bastards spewing disgustingly suggestive words about Yeoul, Hyeseong felt those buried impurities of emotion boil up for the first time in a very long while.
They were people who had been through all sorts of experiences meeting various ability users. There was no way they hadn’t sensed the purification power emanating clearly from that child. When you use abilities frequently, you can faintly detect the energy flowing from others even without direct contact.
Hyeseong was already certain of it too. That Yeoul would definitely be rated B-grade or higher. Even now, recalling the guiding energy that had explosively burst from that child’s body just before Yeoul awakened gave him chills.
And Kim Yeoul was ultimately rated A-grade.
……
Kang Hyeseong, who had seen the grade displayed on the monitor, quietly exhaled and closed his eyes. The scene of those Esper team leader bastards barging into the examination room with their eyes reddened was vividly recalled once more.
“So, Hyeseong. Please think about it positively.”
The Director’s tone was earnest. After a heavy silence, Hyeseong opened his mouth.
“……I’ll proceed with the matching rate test with Second Lieutenant Kim Yeoul.”
***
He still vividly remembers the day that child first moved in next door.
The child’s parents came over and offered rice cakes, and Hyeseong’s mother happily accepted them and exchanged greetings. We’ve just moved in, please treat us well, we should be the ones saying that, please treat us well…… Exchanging greetings with laughter led to them even sharing dinner together.
That was when he first occupied the same space as that little kid. The kid who had neatly combed hair, wore suspender pants, said “Hello” with a lisp, and bowed his head—honestly, he wasn’t particularly welcome at first. Seven years old would be an age of running around constantly, being noisy, and impossible to communicate with.
However, the kid was unexpectedly well-behaved. Except for being a bit picky during mealtime. He didn’t scream, break things, or run around. If anything, he was quiet to a slightly concerning degree. Are kids that age normally this quiet? he’d wondered.
It was only during dessert after the meal that he learned. The kid was born with a congenital heart condition and had already undergone major surgery once at age five. He would need to have surgery one or two more times in the future. Hearing that, and seeing how pale his face was and how his lips looked a bit bluish, Hyeseong couldn’t help but be concerned.
Since he had final exams coming up, Hyeseong went straight to his room after drinking tea. He was deeply absorbed in studying when his door opened very carefully, just a crack.
…Hyung…
What?
Hyung… It was a very unfamiliar form of address for him, having no siblings. When he replied in a tone clearly showing his annoyance, the child hesitantly approached Hyeseong who sat at his desk.
Thinking he might have something to say, Hyeseong just quietly watched, and after the kid’s lips wavered uncertainly for a while, they finally opened.
Let’s… be close.
With that solemn proposal, the kid placed something on the desk. Then he dashed out of the room like a shot.
Hyeseong stared at it with bewildered eyes. A spinning top that had been trapped in those small, clammy palms until just moments ago—so crude and tiny that he wondered if it would even spin.
What a funny little kid.
Still, it was kind of cute.
Hyeseong chuckled and placed it carefully in one corner of his desk before lowering his gaze to his workbook. On the mostly empty white desk sat a purple spinning top, completely out of place with its surroundings.
