“Mr. Choi Taehun, you are truly the most ideal guide I had envisioned.”

The guide’s eyes widened in surprise at the counselor’s sudden praise. The counselor’s expression was so serious that it didn’t seem like a joke or empty flattery.

Taehun scratched his cheek in embarrassment before responding.

“Well, even so, I’ve never really had a successful match before.”

“Except for Ji Gwanyeong, of course.”

The counselor’s voice, emphasizing a well-known fact, seemed to quicken a little. The guide blinked, missing the moment to react to the counselor’s comment. The counselor, in turn, felt a slight dryness in his mouth from the guide’s lukewarm response. His eyes sparkled as he spoke again.

“Mr. Choi Taehun, you manifested as a guide even when you were too young to understand the difference between right and wrong.”

“Haha, yeah, when I was five.”

“Raised in such a perfect, almost ideal family environment, showered with love and care… “

“…”

“You’ve always thought only of what is right and good, without a single crooked thought, and you’ve come this far. The complete opposite of ‘Ji Gwanyeong.'”

Even though everything seemed round and smooth, there was an oddly sharp undertone hidden in the words. Taehun, somewhat awkwardly, smiled and unconsciously raised an eyebrow.

For a moment, he wondered if this was what Kim Gwonseok had meant by “strange”—a kind of coldness that he had been referring to. That discomfort made Taehun miss the peculiar tone with which the counselor said his esper’s name.

The counselor no longer referred to him as Ji Gwanyeong.

“Isn’t it fascinating? You never matched with anyone else, but you became a perfect pair with the esper who has the most powerful abilities ever.”

“…”

“Isn’t that proof that you really have the qualities of a true guide?”

The qualities of a guide.

For someone who had failed to match with an esper for 23 years after manifesting as a guide at the age of five, this description felt far too grandiose. Taehun smiled, slightly furrowing his brows at the unfamiliar combination of words.

“Well, I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

The counselor, whether aware of Taehun’s response or not, smiled slightly as if ignoring his reaction, with an expression like a child who had found an interesting toy. His eyes were bright, and he continued speaking rapidly.

“Honestly, I thought you’d never be able to overcome the rebound-rejection with Ji Gwanyeong. Even if you overcame the rebound, I predicted that Ji Gwanyeong’s rejection would continue.”

“…”

“But, ha, to think you’ve completely got that person in your grasp! Now I’m really curious.”

Taehun felt his smile, which had been faint at the corner of his mouth, freeze into a stiff expression after hearing the counselor’s words.

“Could you and that esper really become a pair without losing in a numbers game?”

The counselor’s precise words, hitting on the guide’s most sensitive complex, felt more like the cold judgment of a research assignment than a considerate and careful consultation.

A small sigh was held back from Taehun’s lips.

The counselor, with an expression like he was carefully analyzing the guide’s response, stared at him. Taehun swallowed a shallow breath for several seconds before breaking the eerie silence and responding clearly.

“…Teacher, honestly, I don’t really understand what you’re trying to say.”

A quiet laugh escaped from the teacher’s lips.

Feeling like a student faced with an unresolved question, Taehun turned his gaze away from the counselor’s piercing look and toward the ceiling. The consultation ended on this strange, offbeat note. Taehun stood up quickly, almost as if fleeing, and added his usual words.

“I’ll see you next time.”

The teacher stood up and even opened the door for Choi Taehun. As he hurried to leave the consultation room, a strange sense of relief washed over him when he saw the man sitting in the middle of the room, even though he hadn’t expected it.

Ji Gwanyeong, who had been slightly bowing his head while on a call, immediately finished the conversation the moment Taehun caught his eye, then stood up.

“You’ve been waiting for a long time. It must have been boring.”

“No. It was fine.”

Unconsciously, the guide immediately grasped the hand of his partner, meeting his gaze. This was highly unusual for Taehun, who typically avoided physical contact, especially in the center.

Ji Gwanyeong raised an eyebrow in surprise for a moment, but instead of pulling his hand away, he pulled it in even tighter. He could sense that his partner’s heartbeat was strangely quick.

This was definitely a stress response.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s nothing.”

Taehun was clumsy at lying. Ji Gwanyeong raised an eyebrow at the clear attempt to dodge the question but didn’t press further. If he went to the guide’s residence and asked that perfectly composed man directly, he’d get the answer immediately. Plus, Ji Gwanyeong had something else he was curious about right now.

“By the way, Taehun, that counselor… is he an esper? Do espers receive counseling too?”

“An esper? No, he’s a guide.”

Ji Gwanyeong didn’t seem to be in a situation where he needed to scan, so he simply glanced at the middle-aged man Taehun had mentioned earlier.

…A guide?

Ji Gwanyeong clearly remembered the faint smile that lingered at the teacher’s lips just before the door closed. It had been brief, but the odd sense of discomfort he felt at that moment was still vivid in his mind. Ji Gwanyeong was about to speak to his guide when—

Suddenly, a loud warning sound went off, making Taehun frown slightly. Even with his average hearing, the siren was loud enough to make his head ring, sounding less like a warning and more like a threat.

In fact, this sound was designed to stimulate espers with highly developed senses.

“So, this is…?”

Taehun struggled to recall what he had been taught in training, frowning as he did. The center had various types of alert sounds.

This was different from the typical warning sound used for emergencies like fires or floods. It was specifically designed to focus an esper’s senses. The guide spoke in a hesitant voice.

“Esper rampage warning?”

“Really, the things they come up with.”

As soon as Taehun’s guess was followed by Ji Gwanyeong’s sarcastic remark, a cold, mechanical voice began to echo through the hallway.

[Attention all guides and middles in the center. A danger has been detected in the Esper Training Area A, Section A-1. Please refrain from entering this area alone and accompany an esper…]

The center’s security was clearly terrible, and for an esper who was already frustrated, this broadcast provided all the evidence he needed. Taehun, already anticipating a more exhausting future as they continued to be inseparable, let out a soft sigh but was still troubled by the warning that had just sounded.

Esper Training Area, Section A. That was where Kim Gwonseok worked. Ji Gwanyeong, reading the concern in his guide’s eyes, rubbed the back of his neck and spoke up.

“Why? Want to go?”

“No, it’s a danger zone.”

“But it says here not to enter alone. Just don’t go alone, and it’ll be fine.”

Essentially, it was a suggestion that they go together.

Taehun, smiling in a resigned way at the boldness of the remark, shook his head. He followed his esper closely as they carefully approached the source of the commotion. As they got closer to the training area, the noise and the crowd of people grew louder. Taehun couldn’t help but feel more tense, perhaps due to the alarming sound that continued to reverberate.

The A-section had long been surrounded by a large barricade.

Ji Gwanyeong scanned the chaotic scene indifferently, his eyes picking out the strange energy of an esper inside. Meanwhile, Taehun, while listening intently to the researchers gathered nearby, kept searching for Kim Gwonseok.