At the end of the maze-like hallway, the security Esper stopped abruptly in front of the final door.
“This is the room. Please contact us when you are ready to leave, and we will escort you back.”
“Thank you.”
The corridor was a straight path, so we could probably find our way out without help. But his tone was so flat and mechanical that it felt unnatural. Given where we were, I even wondered if he was under mind control.
Knock, knock.
Pushing aside unnecessary thoughts, I knocked on the door.
No response.
The guard had confirmed this was the right place, so why did it seem empty?
“This is Alpha Team Guide, Gu Sa-weol. I am coming in.”
“…….”
The silence continued, but when I turned the doorknob, the door opened without resistance.
Inside, there was a worn-out four-person table, a dim lightbulb, and a three-tiered nightstand, all arranged in perfect order.
Even though the room was neat, it was one of the few places in the center that actually felt old.
On the nightstand, a coffee pot was actively boiling, as if someone had just turned it on.
“Where is Ji Guk-hyeon?”
Yu-geon scanned the empty room.
Then, from behind the inner door, there was the sound of slow footsteps.
Clang.
The door creaked open, bringing with it a faint scream and the scent of blood.
I instinctively frowned.
A man stepped up from the staircase beyond the door.
Click.
“Good evening.”
His voice was calm as he closed the door behind him and greeted us.
“I am Ji Guk-hyeon, A-Rank Mind-type Esper of Delta Team.”
Unlike most Awakeners, his hair and eyes were pitch black.
But he didn’t seem like a regular human either.
The darkness of his features was almost unnatural—so deep it felt unsettling.
In his perfectly groomed hand, he held a stainless steel cup.
Looking slightly fatigued, he poured hot water from the coffee pot, sending up a faint steam.
Then, he slowly walked over, took the seat opposite us, and closed his eyes.
His stillness made the entire room feel eerily silent—as if he had fallen asleep.
Yu-geon hesitated, then decided to break the silence first.
“Good evening. We are—”
“I thought I was meeting only Guide Gu Sa-weol.”
Ji Guk-hyeon cut him off in a cold voice.
“And yet, you brought something interesting along.”
He slowly opened his eyes, scanning Yu-geon from head to toe.
Then, with an audible slurp, he took a sip of tea.
Yu-geon frowned immediately, clearly annoyed by Guk-hyeon’s condescending attitude.
Before he could do anything reckless, I grabbed his arm and pulled out a chair, signaling for him to sit down.
“Thank you for taking the time to meet us.”
“Let’s keep it brief.
You’re here about the Guide attack case, aren’t you?”
It was almost like he had anticipated our visit.
“A while ago, Alpha Team’s captain already came to see me. That’s why I rejected your cooperation request.”
“Han-gyeol was here?”
“Yes.”
I hadn’t known that at all.
“Then you should have told us.
You can’t just reject requests without any explanation.”
“Standard protocol dictates that cooperation requests must go through the team’s captain first.
And since you’re in the same team, I assumed the information had already been shared.”
Ji Guk-hyeon’s flat tone made it clear he was simply stating facts.
Technically, he was correct—requests were supposed to go through captains first.
But most Awakeners ignored that rule.
Apparently, Ji Guk-hyeon was one of the few who followed it strictly.
“What do you know about the Guide attack case?”
For now, I set aside the issue of him avoiding us.
That wasn’t the priority.
“I know as much as I need to.
I’ve been tracking the culprit for months myself.”
“Then can you share what you’ve learned with us?”
“Hmm.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his expression completely unreadable.
“If you ask your captain, you’ll get the same information.
So why not just ask him?”
That was the problem.
We couldn’t ask Han-gyeol.
If we did, we’d have to explain why we were looking for Ji Guk-hyeon, how we knew the culprit was a mind-type Esper, and everything else.
And if Han-gyeol knew the full story, he would insist on working with us.
But I had too many secrets I couldn’t share with him.
However, from the way Ji Guk-hyeon spoke, it was clear that he had no intention of giving us an easy answer. His expression was naturally composed, but his reluctance was unmistakable.
“You must have your own reasons for agreeing to this meeting, Ji Guk-hyeon Esper.”
I asked, maintaining an indifferent tone as if I had already figured him out.
“If you had no intention of sharing information, you would have just messaged our team captain and told him to pass it on.”
The corner of Guk-hyeon’s lips curled slightly. He lifted his cup, took a sip of tea, and when he set it down again, his faint smirk had disappeared entirely.
“Let’s not waste each other’s time. Tell me what you want.”
“You catch on quickly. Or maybe you’re just used to making these kinds of deals?”
“…….”
“Well, as an S-Class Guide, I’m sure plenty of people have tried to get something out of you.”
I didn’t respond to his attempt to probe.
“Fine. Consider me one of those people. I want fifty Guiding Crystals per month from Guide Gu Sa-weol.”
The moment I heard his request, my brows furrowed.
“If you agree, I will share all of the information I have with you.”
So he had an ulterior motive. He must have rejected Yu-geon’s request on purpose. He needed something from me. By continuously denying an Alpha Team member, he must have calculated that eventually, the victim of the case—me—would come to him directly.
“And for how long?”
“Let’s say five years.”
It wasn’t an entirely unexpected proposal. The fact that he had willingly met with a Guide he had never spoken to before meant he had a clear objective.
“As you know, I don’t exactly have the time to leisurely visit capsules for Guiding.”
Leisurely visit capsules for Guiding? His voice was calm and measured, but there was a subtle undertone of condescension toward Guides.
Most people wouldn’t have noticed it, but I was particularly sensitive to this kind of thing.
I had seen countless Espers who relied on Guides for survival yet looked down on them all the same. Ji Guk-hyeon was no different.
“This isn’t a difficult request for Guide Gu Sa-weol, is it?”
It wasn’t necessarily difficult, but that didn’t mean it was something I could accept so easily.
I always scheduled Guiding in the afternoons, and if I had no matches in the morning, I usually charged three Crystals. That would total fifteen Crystals per week—sixty per month. But that was only if I had a completely open schedule.
In reality, my average was around thirty per month. If I were to supply Guk-hyeon with fifty every month, I would have to sacrifice my personal time.
“Gu Sa-weol. Let’s just ask Han-gyeol. It’s the same information anyway.”
Yu-geon spoke loud enough for Guk-hyeon to hear. He had a point—if the information was already available, I had no reason to accept this deal.
Han-gyeol was a difficult person, but if I wanted to keep things from him, he wouldn’t pry too hard. I was already leaning toward rejecting the deal when Guk-hyeon spoke again.
“I have information that I have not shared with the Alpha Team captain.”
My eyes sharpened as I asked, “What kind of information?”
“Physical evidence. And I will give you all of it.”
Physical evidence? Had he come into direct contact with the culprit?
The moment I heard that, I knew I couldn’t let this go.
“Fine.”
“Gu Sa-weol.”
Yu-geon called my name sharply, as if to stop me.
“It’s fine. If it’s physical evidence, it’s worth it. He said this isn’t something even Han-gyeol knows.”
“Glad to see we understand each other. Then, sign here.”
Guk-hyeon pulled up a contract on his tablet, as if he had expected this outcome from the start.
The contract was five pages long, detailing what would happen if I failed to meet the agreement, the exact schedule of the Crystal deliveries, and a confidentiality clause regarding the information he would provide.
Just from this contract alone, I could tell exactly what kind of person Ji Guk-hyeon was.
I took the tablet and focused solely on reviewing the terms.
Yu-geon, meanwhile, sat with his arms crossed, one leg bouncing anxiously. He clearly hated this, but because of our earlier promise, he was forcing himself to stay quiet.
“Guide Gu Sa-weol. May I ask a personal question?”
As I carefully went through the contract, Guk-hyeon suddenly spoke up.
What kind of question is he about to ask?
When Espers asked me personal questions like this, it was usually one of two things:
A request for a Pairing
Asking if I had a boyfriend
But I doubted Guk-hyeon cared about either.
“No.”
I immediately rejected him.
“Listen while you review.”
Guk-hyeon ignored my refusal and continued speaking shamelessly.
“Judging by your rank and status, wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be with your captain? Why are you walking around with this Esper?”
His gaze shifted to Yu-geon.
“He’s new to Alpha Team, isn’t he? Is Guide Gu Sa-weol training a rookie?”
“Pfft.”
I suddenly burst into laughter.
It wasn’t even a situation where I should be laughing, but for some reason, I couldn’t help it.
Maybe it was the way Guk-hyeon had asked so sincerely, as if he really didn’t understand.
“Hey…”
“I see. But no, a Guide doesn’t train an Esper.”
It seemed Guk-hyeon spent so much time underground that he wasn’t well-versed in what was happening at the center.
Even if Yu-geon was a new recruit, most A-Branch Awakeners would have heard of him, whether positively or negatively.
Both of us had caused our fair share of trouble at the center.
And despite his relatively late awakening, Yu-geon was still an S-Class.
Most Awakeners went through three years of training, but he had completed it in just three months.
Of course, the Baek family’s support had played a role, but it was still impressive.
Even more so that he had participated in almost fifty Gate missions within those three months.
That wasn’t something that could be achieved just by working hard—it required exceptional talent.
Yu-geon was just as promising as Han-gyeol had been in the past.
“When you received my cooperation request, didn’t you see? My rank is lower, but I am an S-Class Esper. And my name is not ‘this Esper.’ It’s Baek. Yu. Geon.”
Yu-geon, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke in a low voice, clearly struggling to contain his irritation.
The way he emphasized his name, trying to sound composed but failing to hide his frustration, only made me bite my lip to keep from laughing again.
