“Are you embarrassed to tell just your siblings about it?”

The warmth of the touch spread over the neatly trimmed fingernails, a testament to his meticulous nature. It was just a brief brush of the lips, but the loud thundering of Choi Taehun’s heartbeat resonating in his ears seemed to amuse Ji Gwanyeong greatly.

“Is that not it? I was going to let it slide, but if it’s not, then come up with a better reason.”

“…That’s exactly it.”

Finally extracting a reluctant confirmation from his guide, a low chuckle escaped from the Esper. Choi Taehun, who could sense how much trouble this peculiar and temperamental man would bring into their relationship, let out a heated sigh of resignation.

—

“I think I might live in Lab 1 for a while.”

An Esper researcher declared with an earnest expression, causing Imiyeon, who had been enjoying her orange juice, to grimace instantly. Currently, the swarm of researchers hovering around Lab 1, which involved collaborative efforts between Miyeon’s and Oh Yeon’s departments, had only one shared purpose.

“My goodness. How could they hog all the good stuff just for themselves?”

“Exactly! I heard Ji Gwanyeong proposed to Taehun!”

“What?! No way! Actually, I heard it was Taehun who cried and confessed to Gwanyeong, and then he—”

Miyeon, unwilling to endure the absurdity of such fabrications, noisily sucked on her straw, draining the remaining juice as she distanced herself from the nonsensical chatter. The mini-series starring Esper Ji Gwanyeong and Guide Choi Taehun had long been rewritten to suit various tastes.

News of the pair’s new “title” had spread throughout the center in less than a day. To the staff, who had grown sluggish and bored with routine research and development, this romantic drama was a treasure trove of juicy gossip that could easily sustain three years of animated discussions—or maybe even a decade of subtle references.

The reactions to this fresh couple were mostly divided into three categories:

The first was akin to Imiyeon’s reaction: “Couples, buzz off. Ji Gwanyeong, buzz off even more.” This group consisted mostly of the publicity and external relations teams, who were still reeling from the chaos Ji Gwanyeong had caused in the past. Miyeon, resolutely setting her boundaries, began shoving out Espers from the adjacent department who had come to nosily chat in her space.

“Please, go do some work. Honestly, you’re proving why people think public servants laze around. What’s with Lab 3’s attendance record?”

“We’re taking it easy today since the joint project with Japan just wrapped up. Miyeon, don’t be like that; share more details.”

“About what?”

“Ji Gwanyeong and Taehun! Are they coming in today? Oh my gosh, they’re really dating, right? What was it like that day?”

The second group consisted of extreme supporters who fervently shipped Ji Gwanyeong and Choi Taehun. When Miyeon dismissed the inquiries with vague gestures and a curt “I don’t know,” one Esper from Lab 3 chimed in. This Esper, a known drama fanatic, had been elatedly yipping like a dog when the news broke. He was poised to recount the moment word-for-word, down to the last syllable, when—

“Have you finished entering the data from yesterday?”

“A-ah, no! Just a little bit left.”

“Finish it by this morning and submit the report.”

The no-nonsense tone came from none other than Oh Yeon, whose stoic expression silenced the dramatics instantly. The Esper from Lab 3 wilted under the order but knew better than to argue. Oh Yeon was not someone easily swayed by puppy-dog eyes.

“And I’ve assigned a new project to Lab 3. Review it.”

“What?! Seriously?! Oh, come on, Yeon, that’s so harsh!”

Miyeon, delighted by her unlikely ally’s intervention, hummed a triumphant tune and signaled an “okay” with her fingers to Oh Yeon. The stone-faced Esper gave her a slight nod in response.

While such disruptions could be annoying, they were tolerable. What truly grated on Ji Gwanyeong’s nerves, however, was the **third group**.

“Ha-ha.”

“…”

“Ah, it’s such a sweet time for you two, isn’t it?”

The director of the center, seated across from Gwanyeong with his legs leisurely crossed, beamed with what could only be described as fatherly affection. This middle-aged contingent, led by Director Kwon Dahui, didn’t express discomfort or fanaticism but instead exuded indulgent warmth, as though observing endearing, energetic youth.

As Kwon’s soft laughter lingered in the air, Ji Gwanyeong’s expression hardened.

“What’s with that look?”

“The idea of a man who seems like he couldn’t care less about anyone but himself having a loud lovers’ quarrel in a place with so many ears is just too adorable.”

At the unexpectedly candid answer, a rare sigh escaped Ji Gwanyeong’s lips. He had to admit it.

Honestly, he hadn’t realized that every Esper nearby had been eavesdropping on his and Choi Taehun’s conversation at the time. If he’d been his usual vigilant self, sensing presences with precision, he would have picked up on it immediately. But back then, Ji Gwanyeong had been too focused on the guide in front of him—declaring things like wanting to date someone else or calling him selfish—to pay attention to anything else.

When they had left the lounge together, Taehun claiming he’d forgotten his phone, and opened the door to the lab, the flood of unexplainable gazes that poured out had been… indescribable.

By the time Im Miyeon had awkwardly muttered something like, “Oh, um, have a beautiful love. Both of you,” in a strained voice with uncomfortable eyes, Ji Gwanyeong started to suspect that parts of their conversation might have been overheard. By the time an ashen-faced Choi Taehun had asked him a couple of days later, “Hey, how’s the water temperature in the Han River lately?” Ji Gwanyeong was certain: this damn center was buzzing with their story.

Being someone whose profession involved constant public attention, Ji Gwanyeong didn’t care much about researchers gossiping about him and his guide. If he did, he wouldn’t have been kissing Taehun so openly in the hallway.

But enduring this zoo-like feeling of being under observation was a different story. Frustrated, the Esper stood up from the sofa, leaving his untouched tea behind.

Forget waiting—he’d just pull Taehun out of the guide training himself. After all, he’d barely managed to carve out some time from his overnight shoots to come here; wasting it like this was aggravating.

“I’ll be leaving now.”

“Oh dear, if you leave like that—!”

Without a glance back, Ji Gwanyeong briskly walked out of the director’s office. Behind him, Director Kwon Dahee made a futile gesture in the air, but the one who’d already left gave no response. She glanced around the now-empty office and let out a faint smile.

“…This won’t end well for Taehun, will it?”

It sounded like a concerned comment, but the amusement in her voice was unmistakable. Humming a light tune, she sipped her warm tea, clearly enjoying herself.

Director Kwon Dahee was quite entertained today.

She had no doubt that another episode of this mini-series, set in the center and starring Ji Gwanyeong and Choi Taehun, would come out soon. In many ways, it was a good thing. For researchers who were so brimming with talent they found life boring, there could hardly be a better stimulant.

Young people’s romances were always charming, and if watching them brought joy to others, that was enough.

She wondered if her predictions would prove correct, feeling a rare sense of excitement.

And exactly one hour later, she chuckled softly as she watched the new episode spread like wildfire across the researchers’ free discussion board on the intranet.

As expected, the drama had begun with Esper Ji Gwanyeong heading straight for his pair guide.

* * *