“If it’s the Delta Team’s mind-type Esper… you’re talking about Ji Guk-hyeon, right? That guy gives me the creeps.”
The Delta Team was made up of rare Espers, like those with special or mental abilities. They were technically grouped as a team, but most of them worked independently on assignments.
Ji Guk-hyeon was an A-Rank mind-type Esper, and he was notorious within the center.
Mind-type Espers had various abilities—illusions, memory manipulation, telepathy—but the most powerful and dangerous was mind control.
Mind control was a form of brainwashing that allowed the user to wield all the abilities of a mind-type Esper.
Ji-han also had mind control abilities, but he was only a C-Rank. While rank mattered for all Espers, it was especially crucial for mind-types.
If a mind-type Esper tried to manipulate someone stronger than them, their ability simply wouldn’t work. C-Rank was the lowest threshold—anyone weaker than that wasn’t even acknowledged as a true mind-type.
But Guk-hyeon wasn’t infamous just for his abilities.
He spent most of his time underground, rather than in the main center.
The center’s underground housed a detention facility where criminal Awakeners were held before trial. Guk-hyeon was the one who interrogated them to determine the truth of their statements.
Rumors about those interrogations were terrifying.
Some said he could amplify pain to unbearable levels—so much that a simple touch could make it feel like someone’s fingernails were being ripped out. Others claimed he made people experience hallucinations of being burned alive.
The rumors had spread widely through the center, and Ji Guk-hyeon’s cold, expressionless demeanor only fueled the fear surrounding him.
Most A-Branch Awakeners avoided him whenever possible.
“He definitely feels dangerous. I don’t like the idea of meeting him either, but we’re both S-Class. His ability won’t work on us.”
That was our one saving grace.
No matter how skilled he was, his mind control wouldn’t affect us because our ranks were higher.
And if he was the culprit, Yu-geon could easily restrain him.
“What are you planning to ask him? Are you actually suspecting Ji Guk-hyeon?”
“I’m keeping the possibility open… but honestly, I find Ian more suspicious.”
Even after confirming Ian had no core, my suspicions hadn’t faded.
His odd behavior.
Emily’s insights.
Everything about him still felt off.
“For now, I just want some expert input. I need to know how far mind-types can manipulate things.
Like, is it possible for a mind-type Esper to disguise themselves as a different type?”
I was convinced Ian was the prime suspect.
After all, he was the only one who had approached me directly in recent times.
Even if he wasn’t the culprit, he was definitely deeply involved in this case.
There was no way he transferred branches just because of his research interests.
“I’ll talk to Han-gyeol and request a security Esper. I’ll ask for you specifically. That way, you can stay close to me without raising suspicion.”
“That works for me. But…”
Yu-geon narrowed his eyes.
“You’re acting weird.”
“What?”
“Why are you suddenly so proactive?”
I gave a neutral response.
“I need a security Esper. Simple as that.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. But you hate crowded places. I thought you’d call me to a conference room, but you had us meet at a café instead.”
I had ordered hot chocolate, while he was drinking grapefruitade.
When we were paired, we only ever met in the office, capsules, or cafeteria.
So sitting together in a café like this was unusual.
We had never spent time together this… casually.
“You’ll find out soon.”
Yu-geon had threatened to stick to me yesterday, but now that I had called him first, he was acting suspicious.
He used to be oblivious unless things were spelled out for him, but lately, he’d been getting sharper.
“Oh my, isn’t that Gu Sa-weol and Baek Yu-geon? Did they pair up again?”
“But if a pair gets canceled, isn’t there a two-year ban before they can reapply?”
The café was now crowded with Awakeners grabbing their morning coffee.
The moment they spotted us, whispers began to spread.
“Wasn’t Kim Chaeryeong supposed to guide Baek Yu-geon at Stage Two or higher today? She was really excited about it earlier.”
“Call her. She’s probably looking for him right now.”
Kim Chaeryeong was the Guide who had forced a guiding shower on Yu-geon not long ago. She was also the one who had openly talked about it in inappropriate conversations.
“She’s here. Chaeryeong, over here!”
It seemed she had been passing by, because Kim Chaeryeong walked into the café almost immediately. The moment she stepped in, her eyes met mine.
She stared in shock, glancing between Yu-geon and me with wide eyes.
“You agreed to guide Kim Chaeryeong at Stage Two or higher?”
I asked Yu-geon directly, my voice intentionally loud enough for others to hear.
“I don’t know if it was her, but I canceled all ten or so pairings I was scheduled for today.
I don’t need extra energy waves after guiding with you.”
Yu-geon stirred his straw indifferently, completely unbothered.
‘Of course.’
I let a faint smile play on my lips, then leaned in close, whispering into his ear.
“The rumor that I have a security Esper needs to spread quickly. That way, the culprit won’t approach so easily.
The best way to make sure of that is to look like we’re inseparable.”
I reminded him of why I had asked him to meet here in the first place.
I heard Yu-geon gulp, his throat moving.
He was obviously tense from how suddenly I had closed the distance.
“What? Did Gu Sa-weol just kiss Baek Yu-geon?”
“I can’t see well, but she definitely leaned in first.”
Yu-geon’s back was to the growing crowd of onlookers.
To them, it definitely looked like I had kissed him.
Kim Chaeryeong clenched her jaw, glaring daggers at me but not daring to come any closer.
A strange sense of satisfaction bloomed inside me.
‘She should’ve known better than to go after something she couldn’t have.’
I hadn’t liked the way she talked about Yu-geon as if he were hers to claim.
It wasn’t jealousy—just irritation at someone laying eyes on something that had already passed through my hands.
Deliberately making a show of it, I let my fingers brush along Yu-geon’s nape, stroking lightly.
“Hey… hold on.”
“Since things have come to this, why not just get your guiding from me instead? Even Han-gyeol said it’d be better.”
“What? Han-gyeol-hyung said that?”
“Yeah.”
Yu-geon hunched his shoulders, unable to decide how to react.
Meanwhile, Kim Chaeryeong couldn’t take it anymore.
She spun around and stormed out of the café, shoving the door open with unnecessary force.
Her friends chattered in excitement, following her out in a rush.
At this rate, the rumor that Yu-geon and I had reconciled would spread across the center before the day was over.
I casually leaned back, as if I hadn’t just been invading his personal space.
But before I could fully pull away, Yu-geon grabbed my wrist.
“I do want to get guided by you…”
For once, he wasn’t arguing.
Instead, he leaned into me this time, voice lowered.
“But I’m never giving you my blood again.”
“Fine. I won’t drink it.”
I scoffed, amused.
Somehow, every time I guided him, I ended up drinking his blood as well.
It made sense that he was wary of it now.
“It’s not that I don’t want to give it.
I just—there’s a chance it might happen, you know?”
Yu-geon didn’t say it outright, but I knew what he meant.
He was talking about the core.
“I know.
Honestly… I feel weird lately, too.”
“What do you mean? Are you sick?”
Yu-geon was still holding my wrist.
Even though I wasn’t drinking his blood, I felt a faint sense of relief—as if it was quenching a thirst.
It was different from my usual blood cravings.
Instead of wanting to bite, my body felt strangely satiated just from physical contact.
Something was definitely off.
I needed to talk to Emily about it as soon as possible.
“It’s nothing. Maybe I just got tired of drinking the same thing.”
I brushed it off, keeping Yu-geon in the dark for now.
* * *
Back at the office, Yu-geon sent an official request to Ji Guk-hyeon, asking for his cooperation in the Guide attack case.
He declined, citing scheduling conflicts.
The next day, Yu-geon sent another request.
Declined again. Same excuse.
The day after that? Declined. Again.
After a week of being ignored, I personally submitted a request for a guiding consultation.
This time, it was accepted immediately.
Now, Yu-geon and I were heading underground to meet Ji Guk-hyeon.
“You sure you don’t know this guy?”
“Yeah.”
At the detention facility entrance, we were met by heavily armed security Espers.
Apparently, Guk-hyeon had already given them instructions, because they immediately escorted us inside.
“Wow. A whole week of ‘I’m too busy’ excuses, and now he’s suddenly free? Real funny.
Espers are all the same.”
Yu-geon muttered sarcastically as we walked.
Mind-type Espers were often avoided by others, so it was possible that Guk-hyeon was simply desperate for guiding, like Ji-han.
Honestly, it wasn’t even that strange.
With his rare abilities, of course he was busy.
I probably should have been the one to reach out first anyway.
This was my first time inside the detention facility.
I had expected dingy iron bars and filthy cells, but while the underground air smelled stale, the place was actually well-maintained.
The facility was designed to restrain Awakeners, so the cells had multiple security layers—ensuring we wouldn’t come into direct contact with any prisoners.
But despite walking for a long time, the security Esper kept leading us deeper.
‘It’s really quiet.’
The deeper we went, the further we moved from the sounds of the center.
The silence became oppressive—the kind that made your ears feel clogged, like standing at the peak of a mountain.
I glanced at Yu-geon, but he seemed completely unaffected, just walking straight ahead.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from Ji Guk-hyeon, but from the rumors alone, I knew he wasn’t someone to take lightly.
If Yu-geon lost his temper, things could go south quickly.
So before coming here, I made him promise one thing.
No matter what Ji Guk-hyeon said or did, he wouldn’t get involved in the conversation.
No interruptions. No outbursts.
“Stick to the promise.”
“I know. Don’t worry.”
He still looked unhappy, but at least he was listening.
