Chapter 8
Director Park Byeongcheol was convinced that the cause of his increasingly thinning hair was that smooth-faced Guide. Because of that stubborn Guide, the law requiring S-class ability users to serve mandatorily needed to be changed. Based on his observations so far, that person would never change, so amending the law was the only way to save his remaining hair.
Perhaps it was from that moment that Director Park began submitting lengthy electronic petitions about the freedom of occupational choice for S-class ability users on the government petition portal every morning. Director Park sincerely hoped that Yu Junseo would lose his job and stop coming to work.
And now, was this situation the fate of someone who harbored ill will toward others?
“Emergency guiding?”
Learning that Junseo was the only person at headquarters who could perform emergency guiding, Director Park felt his world go dark. Junseo wasn’t even looking at Director Park’s face, which was drained of color from stress—he was just casually reading a book. A small yellow poetry collection.
Instead of reading such things, it would be much more helpful to start with elementary school ethics textbooks. Director Park inwardly lamented.
“I’m concerned that due to my inexperience, the situation might worsen unnecessarily.”
Having grown accustomed to Junseo over the past year, Director Park perfectly understood that this meant “Don’t blame me if you assign this to me and end up clearing away corpses with regret.” But this was an emergency situation, and there was no A-class Guide at headquarters with a matching rate of over 50% who could perform emergency guiding for this A-class Esper.
The remaining options were to use a guiding machine or find a Guide of a higher rank than the Esper who could perform guiding regardless of the matching rate.
The former was highly risky for emergency guiding. Guiding was an unknown territory conducted through emotional connection, making it difficult for machines to perform adequately in the current situation. The latter was also problematic. In these busy times with dungeon outbreak issues, all S-class Guides had long been deployed for dungeon conquests. The only S-class Guide remaining at headquarters was Junseo, who’d been excluded for being a useless troublemaker.
“Guide Yu Junseo, the subject is unconscious, so guiding should be much easier.”
Touchingly, the year had also been meaningful to Junseo, as he seemed to understand that the director’s words meant “Since he’s unconscious, he won’t act up. Just do it.” Although Junseo didn’t look willing, he still obediently blinked and closed his poetry book.
Looking at that beautiful face, Director Park suddenly felt anxious again.
“He’s right before an outburst, so please, don’t cause any accidents.”
***
In truth, Junseo felt somewhat unjustly treated by the director who unconditionally regarded him as a ticking time bomb.
After all, he was someone who always completed his assigned tasks. It wasn’t entirely his fault that, as an S-class Guide who theoretically could guide any Esper, he couldn’t exceed a 15% matching rate with anyone. Of course, he partly agreed with the anonymous complaint that accused him of intentionally conducting oppressive guiding.
Junseo’s guiding method was somewhat different from other Guides.
For instance, if one were to compare general guiding to untangling a knotted thread, Junseo cut the thread. It wasn’t out of malice but because he thought it was efficient. If you have to untangle something anyway, cutting it is easier and faster, right?
The act of sitting blankly, searching for the beginning and end of a stranger’s tangled thread was unbearably boring. The fact that the other party suffered intensely, but the effect was similar whether cutting or untangling the thread, also supported Junseo’s actions.
Sometimes, very rarely, he conducted overtly malicious guiding. But Junseo felt no guilt whatsoever while facing others’ twisted expressions. It was because the Espers who dared to act out in front of a Guide despite not knowing their place were simply paying for their karma.
Guiding is not one-sided but reciprocal. Although Espers are much more sensitive to guiding, the Guide also ultimately receives the Esper’s emotions. If an Esper’s mind is unstable during guiding, the Guide doesn’t feel good either. Thus, Director Park treating him like a psychopath was too much.
Yu Junseo was not a one-sided perpetrator tormenting Espers. He guided Espers while feeling as if he was being thrown into a sewer himself.
Wasn’t that completely fair? Why was he the only one who had to write incident reports periodically?
Junseo frowned his delicate brows.
“Well, this time it’s an already unconscious Esper.”
At least it should be quiet.
Entering the guiding room with thoughts that violated the first clause of the first article of Guide ethics, Junseo encountered a man with a sharp impression despite having his eyes closed like a gentle child.
His moderately tanned skin looked smooth, and his slightly upturned eyes, prominent nose, and firmly set lips were harmonious. Like a fierce beast that had finally tired and fallen asleep. It was a face that made one curious about how it would look with eyes open.
Junseo lowered his gaze to look at the man’s hands. Like his large build, his fingers were straight with prominent knuckles. In other cases, he would have half-heartedly held a few fingers to start guiding, but on impulse, he threaded his fingers between the man’s and interlocked them. It was out of curiosity about whether someone with such an impression would have a moderately low, but not cold, body temperature.
Junseo’s hand and the man’s hand fit together perfectly, like finding a lost puzzle piece. His body temperature was hot enough to melt all of his previous assumptions.
He shifted his hand slightly to readjust his already tight grip with greed. The man’s hand felt distinctly rougher than Junseo’s, befitting an Esper who worked in the field. The calluses on his palm were hard.
Yet his lips look soft.
“Hmm.”
With a completely blank face, not even realizing what he’d just thought, Junseo began guiding.
Not long after, Junseo’s head tilted loosely. Looking down at their clasped hands, he moved his thumb to rub the man’s wrist. His fingertip pressed into the delicate skin. Is it because he’s really unconscious? It felt different from other Espers. But when he’d guided other Espers after making them faint, it hadn’t felt like this.
Junseo felt nauseous every time he guided an Esper. Sometimes, like now, the entire process of infusing his energy and feeling the other’s energy was completely disgusting. Unlike Espers, Guides don’t feel the pleasure of unstable emotions being aligned through guiding. But they also don’t feel discomfort, so Junseo’s reactions—ranging from disgust to occasionally falling ill when unlucky—were exceptional. Every time he looked at the peacefully sleeping man, the tip of his tongue grew wet as if he’d put sour food in his mouth. His perplexity deepened.
“…Can an Esper’s inner thoughts be seen so clearly?”
The tangled energy wasn’t so damp that he would hesitate to touch it, but rather like a child curled up tightly, hiding in the attic.
Swallowing the saliva that thickly moistened his mouth, Junseo acted uncharacteristically gentle. It might have been because he liked seeing the sleeping man’s face soften docilely as the guiding progressed.
The moment the flowing energy interlocked with his own, a strange tenderness sprouted. As he continued to stare at the sleeping man’s face, suddenly all of these moments felt prettier than the words in the poetry collection he’d read today.
He was curious about the man. He wanted to read more of him. What would be inside that cocoon if he untangled the tightly knotted thread? Curiosity about another person arose in his mind. Since becoming a Guide against his will, this was the first time he’d felt this way. It was like having an extremely difficult problem that others couldn’t solve right before him. Junseo was entranced, delving deep into the man without time to think of anything else.
A faint wave pulsed like a child’s song. Junseo wove that wave encouragingly and infused his energy.
“…uh…”
Junseo, who’d been deeply focused without realizing it, awoke from his reverie when the body before him flinched and released a low moan. His dark eyebrows frowned slightly, and his fingertips trembled faintly. The Esper’s body, which had entered a fairly stable state through guiding, was instinctively fighting against the drug’s effects.
His lips parted slightly, releasing sounds that were ambiguously between complaints and moans. Junseo, unlike his usual self, gave a sincere response to those sounds.
Junseo wanted the man to speak more. To beg, to whine, to demand. He became curious even about the fragments of useless words the man let slip.
Even while unconscious, the man’s body responded to the guiding. In normal circumstances, this sight would have irritated him. But the moment the man trembled, letting out a low moan, Junseo unknowingly licked his own lips.
It was strange. When had his previously wet mouth become so dry?
The slightly tilted nape looked erotic. His throat burned. He wanted to trace the line connecting the neck and shoulder with his lips. His innocent gaze, hiding lustful energy, elegantly traced the other’s nape. As if causing a breeze by his ear, the moment he infused energy that had somehow changed in intensity, a faint moan leaked between the man’s lips again. It was a little higher than the previous moan.
