# Chapter 64
[Why are you being so vague? It’s frustrating. Just tell me.]
The perceptive Seah already sensed something was off about Dohyuk. Taking a shallow breath, Dohyuk tried to sound casual.
“It’s about someone I know. Apparently, someone proposed living together even though they’re not dating. Of course, there are unavoidable circumstances. Anyway, they agreed to live at the other person’s place, but is that weird too?”
[Is it a woman?]
He paused briefly. After quickly thinking for that short moment, Dohyuk concluded it would be awkward to add more details and vaguely agreed.
“Uh… yeah. Something like that.”
When he heard a small mutter of “What does ‘something like that’ even mean?” from the other end, Dohyuk closed his mouth. Fortunately, Seah didn’t seem to dwell on it and asked again.
[But why did that person accept? Don’t they have no feelings for each other?]
“No, I think they’re not completely without feelings. There’s some situation that makes dating difficult. They never had any serious conversation about that aspect in the first place…”
As Dohyuk rambled on without realizing it, Seah coldly snapped at him. Her voice poured out like rapid fire from a K12 machine gun.
[Wait, so there are feelings involved? Then aren’t they just dancing around each other with dating as a premise? And if the woman went so far as to offer her home to live together, shouldn’t the man at least ask her out properly? What’s so great about such a guy that she’s sticking around? Did he get some dirt on her? Why are there so many non-recyclable, incineration-only garbage people these days pretending to be human while wandering around thoughtlessly? Don’t associate with someone like that!]
“…Okay.”
Dohyuk had become a non-recyclable, incineration-only piece of garbage wandering around thoughtlessly.
It happened in an instant.
***
“I’m thinking of marrying hyung.”
At Junseo’s monotonous voice, Sangjun responded with the same expression he always had when dealing with him. A rotten smile.
“Oh yeah? And have two kids, a boy and a girl?”
“That’s biologically impossible.”
Sangjun thought he had made a sensible comeback to nonsense with nonsense, but when the originator of the nonsense looked at him as if to say, ‘You’re good at talking nonsense,’ Sangjun felt extremely wronged. It wasn’t entirely his fault that he deeply wished that expression would crumple.
“I thought you were strange since you started acting like you were on drugs. Are you dating now?”
“I said I have no intention of dating.”
Sangjun twisted up the corner of his mouth and mocked Junseo. He burned with ambition to mock him thoroughly, making up for the time he couldn’t mock him before. Sangjun, who had started openly teasing, drawled his words sarcastically. Sangjun in his intimidating combat uniform and Junseo in his long gown-like uniform that was clearly not for everyday use looked so mismatched that their very presence in the same space felt discordant.
“Oh my, are you afraid of breaking up so you don’t want to date? But Korea’s divorce rate has been skyrocketing for two years now, so what about that? They say relationships based on looks don’t last long, so why are you worried about breaking up but not about getting divorced?”
But Junseo just smiled crookedly. With his back to the window, his eyes sunken black beneath the shadow gave Sangjun the creeps. He seemed even paler than usual today, almost inhuman. He looked like a doll, polished to a shine, pretending to be human. Like a lone protruding bump. Sometimes, Sangjun couldn’t comprehend how Dohyuk treasured him like a hidden gold nugget. Of course, seeing how sweetly that bastard behaved around Dohyuk made it somewhat understandable, but that understanding wasn’t in a positive direction.
“I can’t even imagine worrying about getting divorced.”
“Well, Esper Choi Dohyuk is like Buddha—once he marries, he’ll take responsibility till the end, even if it’s with Yu Junseo.”
“Right?”
Although Sangjun had clearly emphasized “even if it’s with Yu Junseo” in a derogatory way, when the person in question smiled brightly and focused on the “take responsibility till the end” part, Sangjun felt hurt. Reasonable suspicion bubbled up abundantly.
“You deliberately let rumors spread about the guiding room incident, didn’t you? Because of that, people at headquarters are still whispering behind Esper Choi Dohyuk’s back, saying he’s been led by the nose by a weirdo. Someone even asked me if Esper Choi Dohyuk is having a romance with a man.”
“Oh really? Tell them he’s a married man.”
Junseo didn’t answer Sangjun’s first question but jokingly responded to the latter part. Sangjun, who found the joke not funny at all, let out a sigh.
“…You crazy bastard, delusional too.”
With a faint sigh, Sangjun shook his head and handed Junseo a not-too-thick report. It meant he didn’t want to continue the conversation. “It’s pointless talking to you—it just hurts my mouth and upsets me,” Sangjun muttered loudly enough for Junseo to hear.
Junseo reached out and took the report Sangjun handed over. This was the reason they met in the guiding room under the pretext of guiding they wouldn’t actually do. With a languid face, he rested his chin on a small table and flipped through the papers. While looking as listless as usual, there was a strangely irritating feeling about him. It was amazing how someone who appeared so docile when still could become so sharp-edged just by slightly hardening his expression. To Sangjun, who knew Junseo’s true character, it all looked cunning, like a feline predator pretending to be fluffy while hiding its claws.
Junseo, who had been staring at the report for a while, furrowed his brow, clearly displeased about something. His delicate eyes revealed through his hair sank into darkness.
“Jihagguk (Underground Nation). They’re saying they’ll send an A-class Esper in poor condition to an S-class dungeon. I guess Korea doesn’t have labor welfare systems?”
“Poison attribute Espers are rare. They prevent the regeneration of Agwi, the Great Thief of the Underground Nation.”
The S-class dungeon “Underground Nation” was a newly opened labyrinth-type dungeon on the beach in Sokcho, Gangwon Province. The monster inside was called the Great Thief of the Underground Nation, with Agwi as its nickname, and it had regenerative abilities that were said to be the most troublesome. Therefore, when hunting this S-class monster, burning the cut parts with abilities to prevent regeneration was the only known strategy so far.
“Fire attributes can do that too. And light attributes.”
“You sure know a lot about monster habits for someone pretending not to care. But what can we do about a decision that’s already been made? They say all A-class and above Espers with those attributes are currently on missions, so there’s no choice.”
At Sangjun’s words, Junseo raised the corner of his mouth. His expression was so sunken that it contradicted his stretched lips, which didn’t match his eyes that weren’t smiling.
The rhythm of his finger tapping on the words “Scheduled Deployee” in the report was steady. He seemed lost in thought. Junseo’s long eyes drew an elegant line. Soft yet cool, like the feather of an arrow flying beyond a drawn bowstring. His lazily parting lips uttered in a slow voice.
“It’s strange. I’ve made my position clear enough, so why do they keep poking at my Esper and coveting him? If they were as shrewd as they seem, they would have handed over an ‘ordinary’ A-class Esper to me without a word.”
“You think A-class Espers are common? …is what I’d like to say. But you’re right, they’re too cheap for the cost of keeping Yu Junseo quiet and docile.”
Guide Yu Junseo was revealed to have no talent for guiding, yet still held an S-class rank. With a solid background as the son of the ruling party representative, the headquarters couldn’t simply shove Junseo into a corner out of consideration. In the early days after Junseo was assigned to headquarters, they monitored him under the guise of protection. Quickly classifying whether someone was a card to discard or keep was their most important task. While pretending otherwise, they were suspicious of Junseo’s future moves. These days, the National Assembly had more ability users than legal professionals. Legal politics was a thing of the past. So the sudden appearance of Yu Minhwan’s son was even more suspicious.
Only after a year of Junseo maintaining an overtly disinterested attitude, spending his time listlessly and showing no interest in politics or his position within headquarters, did the watchful eyes slightly dim, but the obvious pawns remained.
“I’m disappointed that headquarters doesn’t know what even Esper Ji Sangjun knows.”
The current Esper Director is said to be preparing to enter the National Assembly soon. Judging by the fact that he still maintains a close relationship with former director and Daehan Open Party Representative Son Gyuhyuk, the results of the Daehan Open Party’s nomination were obvious.
“Even so, no matter how sweet the body is, one should provide proper entertainment. How impolite.”
Junseo muttered softly and smiled, lifting only his lips.
His long finger now moved over the print that read “Seo Jaesik.”
Who might be the person hidden behind these black letters?
For what purpose would they risk danger to eliminate a clean-backgrounded, facility-raised A-class Esper?
His smooth lips held a gentle smile, as if wetting his throat by a stream. His downturned eye corners became rounder, crushing into an elegant curve. A languid voice followed, sounding half-asleep and listless.
“If you keep acting like this, I’ll become disappointed and start getting suspicious about various things.”
“You haven’t already started investigating behind the scenes, have you? That’s illegal.”
Despite Sangjun’s criticism that it was creepy how someone pretending to be the most docile person in public was diligently doing shady things behind the scenes, Junseo’s brightly shining smile remained unchanged.
