I was so embarrassed that I had to lower my head.
“I’m sorry, we’ll be leaving now—”
“That’s right.”
But suddenly, Gukhyeon agreed lightly.
“Huh?”
“Honestly, wouldn’t I be a better choice than a rookie who hasn’t even fully grasped the Center’s regulations?”
“What do you mean by that…?”
“I’m saying you should work with me instead of this Esper. I’m already chasing the culprit, and being around Guide Gu Sa-weol increases my chances of encountering them. Plus, I have a lot of information. I think this would be mutually beneficial. What do you say?”
Mutually beneficial?
He might think his reasoning sounded logical, but there was no way in hell I would accept.
The crucial reason I brought Yugeon along was that he knew all my secrets. Even if Gukhyeon were an S-Class mental-type, no—even if he were SSS-Class—he couldn’t replace Yugeon.
“Perhaps you’re unaware because you stay underground most of the time, but Esper Baek Yugeon was recently recruited into Alpha Team. He’s one of the most skilled telekinetics in the team. Please refrain from any further disrespect.”
Yugeon was an Esper, but he was also my teammate. Since I had seniority, it was natural for me to look out for him.
More importantly, I couldn’t explain why Yugeon was truly the better choice, so I settled for a diplomatic response.
“I thought he was a physical-type, but he’s actually telekinetic. How admirable, looking out for your teammate.”
His words weren’t genuine praise. He was sulking from being rejected and laced his words with sarcasm.
It would’ve been great if the conversation ended there, but Gukhyeon wasn’t done.
“I’ve never seen a rookie telekinetic who was actually competent. Let’s just hope he’s not a liability.”
Among Espers, telekinetics and elemental-types were highly valued because of their broad range of abilities. But as Gukhyeon pointed out, mastering telekinesis took time.
It was a difficult and dangerous ability to control.
That was why Yugeon constantly practiced by floating small objects like guiding crystals, coins, or pens over his hand. The lighter and smaller an object, the harder it was to manipulate.
Yet Gukhyeon blatantly dismissed him to his face.
I loosened my grip on Yugeon’s wrist.
Then, I let go completely and turned to Gukhyeon with a blank expression.
Yugeon glanced at me before smiling faintly.
Kwaduk— Chwarureuk.
“…!”
Suddenly, the stainless steel cup in Gukhyeon’s hand crumpled like a tin can, and tea spilled everywhere.
Startled, Gukhyeon released the cup, and it floated into the air.
It swayed mockingly, almost as if it had a mind of its own.
He was staring at it as if hypnotized—until the cup suddenly shot toward his face like a bullet.
Bang!
Luckily, it missed him.
Instead, it slammed into the cement wall, leaving a deep crack before tumbling to the floor with a hollow clang.
Shards scattered, leaving a mess everywhere. A cloud of dust rose into the air.
“My apologies. I’m still a rookie, so my control isn’t perfect. Seems I made a mistake.”
Yugeon spoke in a tone that carried zero remorse.
“…Damaging Center property and attacking a colleague is a violation of regulations.”
“Demanding guiding or a guiding crystal with conditions is also a violation of regulations.”
I thought it had completely missed him, but a thin scratch had formed on Gukhyeon’s cheek. A bitter smirk lingered on his face.
“Esper Baek Yugeon, I suppose we’ll be seeing each other in the underground detention center soon.”
“I heard that mental-type abilities are useless when there’s a rank difference. Do you think you can handle this?”
“There are plenty of ways to interrogate someone without using abilities. Besides, if you end up in the second basement detention center, you’ll have a chip implanted in your neck anyway.”
If an Awakener was officially marked with a “red line,” a chip was implanted behind their ear—the closest point to the brain.
That chip was used either to destroy the brain in case of an Esper rampage or to track their location. It could also emit electrical currents or stimulate pain receptors.
“If you want to last long at the Center, you’d better learn to control that temper of yours.”
“I’ll return those words to you. I’m just a rookie, after all. It wouldn’t be surprising if I accidentally got someone knocked into a wall.”
As if to prove his point, Yugeon lifted every single object in the room, making them sway and dance in the air.
The tablet PC, the empty chair, the three-tiered drawers, the kettle, even the dangling light bulb—
For someone who supposedly lacked control as a rookie, none of them moved awkwardly.
Each item responded in perfect harmony to the movement of Yugeon’s fingers, as if he were a conductor orchestrating the objects around him.
“It seems the answer is clear now.”
Telekinesis was a truly mysterious and convenient ability. It allowed one to subdue an opponent without even getting their hands dirty.
“It was a pleasure talking.”
Before things escalated further, I wrapped up the conversation and stepped out through the reinforced metal door. Yugeon followed behind me.
Clang!
The sound of objects crashing to the floor echoed behind us.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I told you to stay put.”
“But you let go of my wrist. That meant you didn’t care anymore, right? You knew exactly what I was going to do.”
“Do you think you’ll be okay?”
Now, after causing all that trouble, Yugeon was suddenly worried.
When we canceled our pair bond, he had already been summoned to a disciplinary hearing for pulling a dangerous stunt to evade security Espers. I heard he received a minor penalty and was placed on probation, just like me.
And if the Center director had scolded Song-yi over the matter, Yugeon had definitely been called in as well.
“I was already pissed off. We got some valuable information, sure, but he contracted for a crystal. Like you said, demanding a crystal is against regulations, so they’ll have to overlook what you did.”
I reassured him.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Besides, I didn’t see any CCTV cameras in there. They probably left them out on purpose since they’re doing things they don’t want recorded. If it comes to it, I can be a witness and say nothing happened.”
“A false witness? How reliable.”
He laughed like he found the situation amusing.
“If I knew it would turn out like this, I should’ve done more. Mental-types aren’t even that special.”
“Okay, that would have been crossing the line. But you handled it well.”
At my last remark, Yugeon’s face finally relaxed, free of worry.
Seeing him like that reminded me of when I first joined the Center.
It was common for Awakeners to feel inferior to those of higher rank. The Alpha Team was the highest-ranked team in any branch, and even within the team, there was a hierarchy based on rank and skill.
New recruits with high ranks but no real combat experience were easy targets for resentment, jealousy, and hazing. Back then, even the senior Guides in Alpha Team had given me a hard time.
They never harmed me physically, but they’d make snide comments like,
“Sa-weol must have it easy since she has such a high rank.”
or
“This doesn’t really concern you, does it?”
At the time, I thought they were just making casual remarks.
But when I reflected on it, it was clear they were belittling me.
Back then, I was too naive to catch on. But as time passed, I learned—whether I wanted to or not.
Yet, I never really cared.
Maybe it was because I had always lived with a calm disposition.
I knew they couldn’t actually do anything to me, so their words had no effect.
Ironically, my unshaken attitude only seemed to irritate them more.
As I established my place within the Center and gained seniority, the bullying-that-wasn’t-quite-bullying faded away naturally.
Guides couldn’t openly get into physical altercations like Espers, so they resorted to subtle digs and passive-aggressive remarks.
It was exhausting. That was one of the reasons I preferred working alone.
That said, Gukhyeon didn’t quite fit into that category.
He wasn’t trying to assert dominance. He simply didn’t know Yugeon well and had a bias against rookie telekinetics.
Still, looking down on someone without knowing anything about them… that deserved the same judgment.
I acknowledged that Gukhyeon had achieved remarkable success outside of gate combat.
But he had no right to belittle Yugeon.
Especially not when mental-types were weak in direct combat, and he had the audacity to provoke a telekinetic right in front of him.
That was his mistake.
As much as I hated to admit it, aside from Han-gyeol, there wasn’t a single Esper in the Center who could defeat Yugeon.
Han-gyeol specialized in close combat, while Yugeon was dominant at long range. Their fighting styles naturally countered each other.
In sparring, Han-gyeol had the upper hand.
But in real battle—especially in gates—it was a different story.
If Yugeon refined his skills, he would eventually surpass Han-gyeol.
At first, even I had dismissed him, thinking he was just lucky to awaken with a high rank and favorable abilities.
But not anymore.
Now, I could see his potential—and his growth.
More than anything, Yugeon was diligent and never arrogant.
Plus, having the Baek family’s backing didn’t hurt.
Yet, the way he was still cautious about his actions made me think he hadn’t fully realized his own potential or position within the Center.
I didn’t feel the need to tell him.
He had only just joined, and excessive praise could be a double-edged sword.
Either way, if Yugeon continued on this path, he would become just as outstanding as Han-gyeol—if not more.
That was why I had laughed when Gukhyeon suggested training him.
Yugeon wasn’t someone who needed training.
He was sharp, confident, and had just enough of a temper to rise to the top.
The captains of each team weren’t exactly meek people either.
It was in moments like these that I could see the resemblance between Yugeon and Han-gyeol.
Baek family Espers really were built differently.
“By the way, how did Han-gyeol find out? Did you hear anything?”
“No.”
We were on our way back to the Alpha Team office.
Before we arrived, Gukhyeon had mentioned that Han-gyeol had visited earlier.
Since he said they had shared everything except for the physical evidence, Han-gyeol would already know that the culprit was a mental-type and a missing researcher.
And, by extension, why the culprit was after me.
That realization made the air feel suffocating, as if the oxygen had been drained from the room.
I felt a noose tightening around me.
“Keep it a secret from our senior. Since he moved without telling me, he probably doesn’t want to talk about it. Let’s just pretend we don’t know for now.”
“Got it.”
For now, I had to silence Yugeon.
At this point, I needed to catch the culprit faster than Ian, faster than Gukhyeon—faster than Han-gyeol.
I was going to put everything into this hunt.
