‘Of all things, he said thank you.’
Perhaps it was because of being treated like a thirteen-year-old — but memories of a young Rodeo kept surfacing unbidden.
Even after years had passed since being dragged to the facility, young Rodeo — who was good at nothing — used to sneak out of the dormitory every night and hide in the back courtyard to cry. It was during that very period that a child spotted someone running along the top of the facility’s high wall and falling — and as if by accident, used his ability to catch that silhouette in the air. It was a time when he couldn’t move so much as a single eraser, let alone a person.
As was the case with all Espers undergoing training, the man’s face was covered in scars. He held Rodeo’s gaze steadily as he slowly descended, and Rodeo — still using his ability — found himself trembling without realizing it, stunned by the discovery that using his power didn’t have to hurt.
The exercise of power free from pain had a way of bringing out a synergy effect. It was the first moment in Rodeo’s life that he had controlled his own ability — Rodeo, who had never once been able to control the air the way he wanted; Rodeo, who had always ended up hurting someone or causing an explosion; Rodeo, who was carried out of every training session in the middle of a seizure.
“Thank you.”
The man with deep blue eyes landed on the ground, checked his joints and the back of his neck — then suddenly took Rodeo’s wrist and said those words.
“You saved my life. Capable, for someone so young.”
In that moment, he felt goosebumps rise all over his body.
Thank you?
It was a word he hadn’t heard a single time since arriving at the facility. At the time, it was his everyday reality to resent his own ability — one that hurt people rather than saved them.
Saving someone with his ability, and then being thanked for it — and even praised for it — it was too enormous an event for Rodeo to have happened in just a few minutes.
“What’s your name?”
“…Rodeo.”
He had hesitated before giving the name the facility had assigned him.
“…Rodeo? Why?”
“My stability rating is low, and I have seizures… they said I rampage like a bison…”
At that, the man’s face shifted into one of contempt — then he clicked his tongue, and found his smile again.
“How old are you?”
“Thirteen…”
“Is that any way for an adult to treat a child.”
“…?”
“You know — when I was young, I was given the name Chalice because my Guiding output wasn’t considered sufficient.”
Rodeo had blinked without a word, having had no idea until just now that the man had been Guided — and had been certain he must be an Esper — when the man scoffed and spoke.
“Old-timers like to compare Guiding to wine. They say you need at least a full barrel — that the tap hadn’t opened yet.”
“…But Chalice means a sacred cup. That’s something special.”
“It’s all mockery. Toward a child. That’s the kind of people the facility lot are. So don’t let your name define you either.”
Rodeo couldn’t fully understand everything being said and simply stared at Chalice — and Chalice gave a small shrug, got to his feet, and brushed the dirt from his clothes. Only then, in the moonlight, did the now-composed figure of him become clearly visible. His blue eyes, catching the light, broke into a grin directed at Rodeo — and in that instant, the headache that had been tormenting Rodeo vanished cleanly.
“You saw that, right? The child who was given the name Chalice — he became a Guide capable of contactless Guiding.”
Rodeo felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as he stared blankly up at Chalice, who was a good head taller than him.
“So — missions are a team effort anyway. With the right partner, stability rating can’t be a problem.”
He flashed a grin, told him to do well, and sprinted off, disappearing into the dark. At his retreating figure, Rodeo had half wanted to shout ‘No one is willing to be my Guide’ — but whether it was the effect of a match rate of over 90% that he hadn’t known about at the time, he couldn’t be sure. Lost in the euphoria of existing entirely without pain, Rodeo stood there in that spot for a long time that night, silent as a stone statue.
The nightly escapes to the back courtyard to cry came to an end that day.
“…Not knowing that that partner would turn out to be you yourself.”
Rodeo smiled to himself as he got up. His socks and the hem of his trousers were soaked through despite the small amount of water — which almost certainly meant he’d left a mess on Chalice’s floor as well.
He had made to leave with a mumbled excuse, and Chalice had given him a thin, almost reluctant smile — a sendoff in his own way — and the fact that Chalice had said nothing despite surely knowing the state of his floor made the tip of Rodeo’s thumb keep tingling.
“What is wrong with me, seriously.”
He hardened his expression in an instant, shook his head, and stood up — then picked up the vase from the floor and headed to the kitchen. He placed it in the empty sink and turned on the tap to fill it, and without meaning to, let out a sigh.
“I should just keep fighting him. Ah… I really can’t be doing this.”
Even as the water overflowed from the vase, Rodeo gripped the edge of the sink with both hands, hunched his back, and launched into a stretch that wasn’t really a stretch.
A few seconds passed. He finally forced his tightly shut eyes open, straightened up, turned off the tap, and shook his head from side to side.
“Get it together, Rodeo. Get it together.”
From first thing in the morning, nothing was going right for Rodeo.
“We finally get to ride my dream car and the owner has to sit in the passenger seat — why?”
“Then does it make sense for the bodyguard to sit in the passenger seat? Stop complaining and buckle up.”
The doorbell rang at precisely nine in the morning — uncanny — and Rodeo, mid-breakfast, checked the intercom to find Chalice standing there in all black save for a white dress shirt. Add the Boeing sunglasses hooked on his suit pocket and the look would be a textbook bodyguard outfit.
“Honestly, this ahjussi’s taste…”
Rodeo pressed the button to unlock the front door and shoved the last of his toast into his mouth, and for the entire time it took him to chew and swallow, there was no sign of Chalice. Only when the sound of reluctant footsteps finally entering the apartment reached him did Rodeo wipe his hand roughly on the plate, stand up, and crane his head toward the entryway.
“Is this — a feature our place has too?”
“What?”
“Unlocking the front door, I mean.”
Rodeo looked at Chalice with an expression that said surely not.
“Didn’t you move in before me, at least?”
“Moving in one day earlier hardly counts as before. And I didn’t have any guests either…”
“Not like I had many guests either.”
Chalice scratched the back of his perfectly slicked-back hair. A mountain of a build in an outfit that looked like it wouldn’t bleed a single drop if you stabbed it — and yet here he was, being awkward. It wasn’t even funny.
“You’re just old, that’s all.”
“…Respected elder, have you had breakfast?”
Chalice gave an inadvertent laugh at the pointed way Rodeo asked it, and answered.
“I ate. But why are you still in your pajamas? Didn’t the session start at ten?”
“…Leaving thirty minutes before is more than enough. How early do you expect me to be there?”
“You never know what might come up. If you’re done eating, go wash up and get dressed. We’re leaving at twenty past.”
Chalice handed over the twenty minutes as though doing him a favor, and just like that, Rodeo had a productive morning forced upon him in place of a peaceful one.
And that wasn’t all. When Rodeo reached for his car key sitting by the front door, Chalice snatched it clean away and calmly straightened his tie as if nothing had happened. Rodeo, who turned around wondering what was going on, was left blinking and trying to make sense of the situation.
“That’s… my car key?”
“Right. Let’s take that car.”
All the way down in the elevator, Rodeo could only stare at his car key swaying in Chalice’s hand. Chalice didn’t spare Rodeo a single glance — just watched the elevator light. It was clearly deliberate, but Rodeo tried his best to find a generous interpretation.
Is this a bodyguard service thing? Is he carrying the car key for me — like a bag, but a key?
Trying to talk himself out of the thought he didn’t want to accept, he arrived at the parked car with that ridiculous theory in mind — and sure enough, the moment Chalice strode over and pulled open the driver’s side door, Rodeo yelped.
“Hey — hey hey hey?”
“What. Did you forget something?”
“That’s my car. Have you been abroad recently? That’s the driver’s seat.”
Chalice looked at Rodeo clinging to the car door with both hands, then opened his mouth with an expression of mild exasperation. It was a tone that was perfectly polite but utterly dry — the tone of a bodyguard.
“Sir, shouldn’t it be the bodyguard who does the driving?”
“But it’s my car—!”
Without waiting for Rodeo to finish, Chalice got in, and Rodeo trudged over to the passenger side like a beaver that had lost its dam.
The trouble didn’t stop there. As Rodeo knocked on Evan Colbert’s door with Chalice standing diagonally behind him, Chalice caught sight of the nameplate and let out a quiet ah — and the moment the door opened, he greeted Evan with an expression Rodeo had never seen on him before, in a tone of voice he had never heard from him before, warmly saying hello as though Rodeo wasn’t even there.
“Evan-hyung…?”
Hyung — Rodeo had never once seen Chalice call anyone hyung. No matter how much older someone was, it was always seonbae-nim or a job title — never hyung. Rodeo stood there frozen — not just his face but his whole body — and stared with his mouth hanging open at the two of them exchanging warm greetings without him.
“Look at you, showing up like this. Why didn’t you reach out?”
“…After letting you see me like that — it was hard to face you, hyung.”
“Hard, right. We’re way past the point of hiding anything from each other.”
Evan glanced sideways at Rodeo and said it with a smile.
Like that — what did that mean? Way past hiding anything — what was that about? Rodeo, forgetting the situation entirely, was about to push his way in somehow — when he heard Chalice let out a low laugh. Not a formal laugh, but the kind that — even in that low voice — brought to mind the boy he had once been.
