Choi Taehun glanced at the empty seat next to me and then scratched the floor with the tip of his shoe. Recently, my partner, who had lost his memory, was so busy that simply following him around felt overwhelming.

This was the complete opposite of what I had vaguely imagined—thinking he would be more relaxed after the drama wrapped up. He had interviews several times a day, and not only CFs but also new scripts to go through, making the day fly by.

Yesterday, he had been appointed as a promotional ambassador, striking a proud pose while taking photos in front of the camera. It made me realize, “He’s truly living in a completely different world.”

“Ji Gwanyeong, you must be exhausted today, right?”

“Yes? Yes. Today is a bit… They say there’s work with the movie company.”

Even before he lost his memory, he was the kind of man who would make everyone at the center wait. At that time, there was a plausible excuse—he was filming a drama. Now, with the leash completely off, expecting Taehun to obediently follow his orders seemed unlikely.

Some of the researchers, upon hearing his words, couldn’t help but show disappointment on their faces. They told themselves they had to stop expecting too much, but like everyone else, it was difficult to suppress the frustration that arose.

Because of this, Taehun, who had done nothing wrong, lowered his head as if he were a criminal. With his furrowed brow, Oh Yeon, standing beside him to block the others’ gaze, whispered softly.

“…You can step out and come back right before it starts.”

“It’s fine. We still have half a month, right? I’ll do my best.”

Seeing Taehun respond brightly, Oh Yeon gave a half-hearted smile, unsure of how deeply his anxiety was eating him up. Taehun had already been indebted to me more than words could express.

Currently, the center’s search for the “teacher” was at a standstill.

Actually, it wasn’t even a standstill—it was more like a state of panic. The so-called “teacher’s current face” was completely shrouded in mystery, much to our surprise.

The schools and workplaces listed in the database were all manipulated. The university was on the graduation list, but no one seemed to know him, causing the school to react with astonished confusion when contacted. They didn’t know what was going on either, but the person seemed like a ghost student. Eventually, the trail of investigation stopped at high school graduation.

“Oh, Choi Taehun! You’ve come quickly. Hahaha!”

The voice of the baritone was the “teacher” who had organized today’s meeting. Oh Yeon glared coldly at the middle-aged man smiling with a bright expression, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the “teacher.”

The face of the “teacher” had been crafted through over 20 years of existence in society, living as an invisible member. His life had been meticulously fabricated, but there was one place where the real tail could be seen—the military’s guide counseling record.

The sensation of confirming that moment was chilling, as if the blood had drained from my body. It made me think of a terrible scenario I dared not imagine.

If that man had been doing “counseling” since then, it would mean something far worse than just a problem involving the center’s few hundred members. A tragedy beyond imagination could be waiting.

However, neither Oh Yeon, Miyeon, nor any of the researchers spoke this to Taehun. No one conveyed it.

We couldn’t burden the guide, who was already visibly worn out, with even more weight. Taehun was already struggling through this terrifying time alone.

The center’s director, Kwon Dahee, who had been sitting far behind, clenched his fists.

At this point, the relationship between the man behind that face and the teacher was irrelevant. We had to find out one thing: how to make countless guides move to death.

The “teacher” faced the hateful stares directed at him and tilted his head at a right angle, his eyes gleaming in enjoyment.

“Oh, the seat next to you is empty, Taehun?”

“….”

Lee Hansol, following behind the teacher, wore a mocking smile. He was clearly satisfied with the empty seat next to Taehun.

In fact, Hansol had been worried. The guide’s overconfidence, acting so boldly towards me, made him feel as though the Esper had already been “won.” It irked him.

But it turned out Taehun was no different.

There was no real closeness between the two, no loving couple sharing warmth. Seeing Taehun, the guide, sitting alone on a sharp thorn, trembling, made Hansol grin widely.

Once the experiment was over, regardless of the outcome, Taehun had to hand over the matching rate. My father was very strict with experiments, so unless something unusual happened, he would follow it through.

Hansol wasn’t too happy about it, but it was fine. If the guide failed in the experiment, he could simply pierce Taehun’s heart in front of a calm Ji Gwanyeong and reclaim it.

After taking a deep breath, Taehun spoke in a stiff voice.

“Can’t we just proceed with it?”

“Oh, oh, oh. There are so many things I want to ask by comparing them, sitting them together like this. Well, there’s nothing I can do. This is just a mid-experiment result.”

Choi Taehun gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes to avoid the teacher’s gaze.

His insides churned. He had promised himself not to show any signs of weakness, but now, sitting alone in this situation, he felt as if he were sinking into a deep, suffocating pit.

They were lovers who had always been together. In times like this, his lover would sit next to him, holding his hand tightly, giving him courage so he wouldn’t stagger. But today, he was not by his side.

He had to understand.

To him, Ji Gwanyeong was still his one and only Esper and lover, but to Ji Gwanyeong, he was just a stranger he had known for only about two weeks. No, in fact, he might not even be a ‘guide.’ No matter how much he connected with him, he wouldn’t be able to feel anything.

Choi Taehun, recalling these thoughts, felt as if his insides were being crushed, so he gripped the armrest tightly.

“Alright, let’s begin. Ha-ha, everyone, please take your seats.”

The researchers followed the teacher’s mocking tone, but their faces clearly showed how much they wanted to twist his neck. They could all see how uncomfortable their colleagues surrounding the teacher were.

Choi Taehun lifted his head.

He didn’t have the confidence to endure, but spending this time alone was one way to not give up on Ji Gwanyeong. Once he calmed down, the pounding of his heart gradually returned to its usual quiet rhythm.

Stay calm. Stay calm. The guide muttered inwardly, reassuring himself. No matter what that teacher said or asked, he couldn’t let himself be swayed.

The enormous central hall, where everyone from the center had gathered, began to fill with uncomfortable silence instead of disorder. Choi Taehun glared with intensity at the teacher, who had once smiled so kindly, someone he had thought of as genuinely caring. He had always believed he didn’t have a competitive personality, but against this person, he absolutely didn’t want to lose.

Then it happened.

The door of the center, which never allowed any visitors, opened. The teacher’s “experiment” was top secret, and no one outside the center knew about it. This was to prepare for any unforeseen circumstances. So, on important days like this, no one, regardless of who they were, could step into the center.

‘Except for one person!’

Everyone’s gaze was fixed on the tall figure as if in a trance. With every step he took, the sound of his well-polished shoes tapping on the floor echoed. No one could stop the man as he walked across the vast central hall. They all looked at him as if they were unsure whether they were dreaming.

He removed his large sunglasses and casually stuffed them into his shirt pocket before immediately sitting down next to the guide, who had a somewhat dazed and emotional expression.

Lee Hansol watched the entire scene, trembling with his fists clenched. ‘That’ was Ji Gwanyeong.

Guide Choi Taehun’s Esper, Ji Gwanyeong.

“Why?”

Ji Gwanyeong asked with a slight frown, still keeping his eyes on Taehun. Taehun tried to respond but only managed a suppressed breath as if trying to hold back the emotions that surged up.

There were so many things he wanted to say.

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t come today?” “Have you finished all the work with the movie company?” “What about your manager?”… But instead of these many sentences, Taehun simply bowed his head slightly toward Ji Gwanyeong. He had promised himself that he would never show weakness today, but somehow he felt like he might cry.

Gwanyeong, with his legs crossed and leaning his arms on the table, continued speaking. His gaze was fixed on the teacher, who was strangely flashing his eyes at Taehun.

“…Didn’t I ask for this? ‘Friday, 2 PM.'”

The Esper was not late this time.

Im Hyun bit her lip, trying to suppress the slight smile that was trying to form as she glanced at the massive clock in the center of the hall. Some of the researchers still looked as though they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

It was understandable. The white marble of the central hall still showed traces of being broken and shattered, a reminder of when Ji Gwanyeong had been thrown into Lee Hansol. There hadn’t been time to fix it.

They had all witnessed how that brutal monster treated his guide, Taehun. But was it possible that Taehun, who couldn’t even remember the matching, asked him to come?

The hall was filled with a silence so complete that even a small breath could be heard. The one to break it was the teacher.

Clap, clap, clap, clap. The teacher clapped joyfully, his smile almost splitting his face.

“Welcome, Ji Gwanyeong. I was so nervous, wondering if you would come.”

The researchers, with tense expressions, quickly walked over and sat down across from Ji Gwanyeong. The Esper looked at them with a look of confusion, but Taehun immediately understood their purpose. It was for the same reason as with Oh Jinwoo.

Before long, Oh Yeon appeared next to Taehun, holding a machine cord. He was there to analyze Taehun’s physical reactions. Taehun lightly squinted and extended his arm, signaling that he was fine.

The setup for the mid-term evaluation was complete.

Now, every response from the pair would be analyzed in various ways. For Ji Gwanyeong, the Esper whose reactions could not be scanned by a machine, real-time readings would be taken from the intelligence Esper. For Taehun, confirmation would come through biological responses.

“Alright, let’s begin.”

The teacher opened his mouth, his eyes gleaming with joy.

“I’ll ask you, Choi Taehun. How have you faithfully participated in the experiment these past two weeks?”

At the teacher’s somewhat abstract words, Taehun frowned slightly. But the man in front of him just smiled as if urging him to say something, nodding his head. Taehun, trying not to speak without confidence, reflected on the past two weeks.

“On the 29th, I went to meet Ji Gwanyeong at a drama filming site, and then… on the 23rd, I met Ji Gwanyeong at the residence.”

“You met at the residence?”

Taehun, slightly uncomfortable with the teacher’s precise question about that memory, continued to speak while avoiding the direct question. Ji Gwanyeong was clearly aware of Taehun’s attitude. The teacher was aware as well.

“Up until yesterday, we went to meetings and contracts together, as much as we could…”

“Something changed after the 23rd, didn’t it? There must have been something at the residence, right?”

Taehun, looking directly at the teacher, eventually avoided his gaze, just as the teacher had been waiting for his unease. The teacher seemed to be enjoying the discomfort he was causing.

Unconsciously, Taehun’s hand tightened into a fist, and the bones of his hand were visible under his pale skin. The middle-aged man with the relaxed eyes chuckled, clearly delighted, and continued.

“Ha-ha, I won’t ask what happened. That’s not the important part.”

“……”

“What I want to know is this. That day, how did you feel, and what were you thinking, Choi Taehun?”

A sharp breath was drawn in, followed by a deep inhalation.

Ji Gwanyeong recalled the expression of the guide who had been looking at him with eyes that seemed ready to crumble any moment that day. What were his feelings and thoughts at the time when, with such a neat face and voice, he uttered words that seemed out of character? Choi Taehun quickly gave his answer to the question Ji Gwanyeong had brought up.

“I thought I should give up… that’s what I thought.”

Esper reflexively turned to look at the face of the man sitting beside him. Just a few days ago, Taehun had said to him while looking directly at him, “I will never give up.” But now, this guide was saying that he had actually been considering abandoning him. Words appeared on the screen in the center of the room.
/T/
Ji Gwanyeong’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he gazed at it. But Taehun’s next words were enough to make his expression more rigid.

“I really thought it wouldn’t work. No, I thought I couldn’t do it. Honestly… I’m scared.”

“……”

“I didn’t expect to feel so… miserable. I regretted everything. All of it. Just, everything.”

There was no need for any kind of interpreter. His words were the absolute truth, with nothing missing. Oh Yeon lowered his head deeply at those words, and the other researchers also couldn’t bear to look at Taehun and turned their gaze away.

But the teacher knew. Even though Taehun’s voice was somewhat quiet, it wasn’t shaking or trembling in the slightest.

“I spent just one day like that.”

“Why?”

The teacher asked with a puzzled expression. Taehun, gathering his courage, looked at the teacher and spoke again.

“Because he told me to never give up on myself.”

“……”

“He must have known well that I wouldn’t act or speak willingly. You have to be a little eccentric. Ji Gwanyeong, even though he has a bad personality, is pretty good at self-objectivity.”

The remarks were almost close to slander, flowing easily in front of the person involved. The researchers, without realizing it, glanced at Esper. To them, Ji Gwanyeong was like a bomb that could explode at any moment.

This was the man who had once, just because Lee Hansol had called him “my Esper” while holding his arm, shoved him into a wall and tortured him. No one could predict what would set him off.

However, when they carefully looked at Ji Gwanyeong’s face, no discomfort was visible.

No, to be more precise, his expression was strange, as though no emotion could be read from it at all. His eyes, fixed on Taehun, seemed to waver in a strange way, but it was difficult to label it with a specific name. The teacher slowly opened his mouth, as if pondering Taehun’s words.

“Is there any reason to keep a promise made to someone who doesn’t remember you?”

The teacher’s hand pointed, moving from Taehun to Esper sitting next to him.

“Let’s think back a few weeks. At that time, Choi Taehun and Ji Gwanyeong were sitting side by side like this.”

“……”

“Right. At that time, that Esper… how did he hold Taehun’s hand? Was it something like this? He really never let go, haha. He didn’t show a single sign of disliking this ‘experiment’ until the end. But now, what’s happening?”

The teacher intertwined his fingers as he spoke mockingly.

It was then that Esper, who had been frozen as if nailed to his place, slowly turned his head toward the middle-aged man.

“Choi Taehun, think carefully. Isn’t this your chance to escape this dreaded center? This life is surely not what you originally wanted, right? What’s the use of saying another guide’s life is on the line! Look at these foolish, helpless faces supporting everything on one powerless Taehun, all because of that one goal.”

He had once imagined a future: meeting a small and kind woman, building a modest yet beautiful life, getting married, having two or maybe three kids. If someone he loved didn’t like it, having just one child and showering all his love on them could have been great.

But now, stuck in the cycle of the center and dormitory, he couldn’t even imagine a crowded place. It was a future he had never even once considered in his twenty-eight years of life. Not even in his wildest dreams would he have wanted to live a life like that, especially not with the label of being the top star of South Korea, under such a public gaze.

Taehun then noticed the researchers, who were too embarrassed to raise their heads. Most of them were people he had known for a long time.

The center, which he had been visiting since he was five, was more familiar to him than any playground. Since he had grown up, taking care of the younger ones had been second nature, and the people at the center had always called him that.
“Uncle,” “Aunt,” “Older sister,” “Older brother.”