“How will you handle this, Taehun? I’m guessing Ji Gwanyeong over there will obviously go along with it?”

At that moment, the guide instinctively turned to look at his pair and lover. Since stepping into the office, the Esper had only spoken briefly during the early part of the conversation and hadn’t said a word since. He simply focused on the warmth of Taehun’s tightly held hand, absentmindedly tracing circles on it with his thumb.

Ji Gwanyeong glanced briefly at the teacher, who was now watching him, and gave a short response.
“…Whatever it takes.”

Taehun held his breath for a moment as he heard that voice.

“Ah, there’s no time. No time at all. Still, we gained an extra day to think it over since someone died a little ahead of schedule. Fortunate, isn’t it?”

A cackling laugh spilled from the teacher’s lips.
“Tick-tock, tick-tock. Time is running out. Time is running out.”

—

The center had plunged into an unprecedented state of fear.
They were completely at the mercy of the teacher. They couldn’t figure out when or where things had gone wrong. It was a total defeat for what was supposed to be the most brilliant minds gathered under one roof.

Perhaps that outcome was inevitable.
The teacher had designed the very cells, framework, and sinews of everything they had taken for granted at the center. From the Esper-Guide matching system to the training facilities and programs, even major aspects of security bore his unmistakable touch.

Even after the teacher left the center over a decade ago, no one dared tamper with the security system he had created. The reason was simple: none of the researchers, no matter how brilliant, could conceive of a security system better than the one he had already implemented.

The fortress of the center had seemed impenetrable—until it was effortlessly dismantled by the hands of the one who had designed it.

Desperate to identify the breach, the researchers meticulously inspected the system, but they failed even to locate the gap the teacher had exploited. They couldn’t even crack their own system. Only the teacher could.

It was a crushing, inescapable sense of helplessness. The researchers, faced with such an absolute failure, didn’t even have the courage to resist. Overwhelmed by sheer terror, they fell silent.

Some Espers whose guides had fortunately avoided crossing paths with the teacher tried to organize resistance. But their attempts were met with reactions so swift and sharp it resembled real combat, quickly quelling any opposition.

Ji Gwanyeong and Choi Taehun had managed to buy one day with Kim Gwonseok’s life, and another with the life of an unknown guide. On the first day, Taehun had spent his time in the residential quarters, passing the hours simply by being with his lover.

On the second day, Gwanyeong excused himself, saying he needed to prepare. Taehun accepted his absence without resistance.

The pair each had tasks to face. Gwanyeong had to steel himself to erase all memories of the eight months he had shared with Taehun, while Taehun needed to practice relinquishing his hold on their pairing dynamic.

Gwanyeong returned to the quarters late at night, on the final evening where he still retained all memories of his lover. The Esper glanced at the pile of cigarette butts on the balcony and let out a faint, bitter smile.

It was the day Taehun’s eight-month streak of quitting smoking was undone.

“Choi Taehun, what are you thinking about so hard?”

“…Our first meeting.”

His voice, deeper and more strained than usual, was low and brief, carrying an oddly playful undertone. If not for his dark expression, it might have been charming.

Ji Gwanyeong leaned against the veranda railing, listening to Choi Taehun’s words. The humid, stifling summer night, which he normally disliked, strangely felt fitting to commemorate this moment.

“A fan signing event?”
“Yes.”

Ah, yes. That did happen.

As he tidied up the pile of cigarette butts his guide had smoked, making them float in the air, Gwanyeong thought back to that time. He remembered the round figure darting away in shock after shaking his hand. The sensation of touching his pair guide’s hand for the first time still remained a vivid memory.

“You really were clueless.”
“…Me?”

“Even when my name appeared on your back, you kept picking the wrong people to mess with, didn’t you?”

Only then did Taehun recall the 70-year-old man and the young teenager he’d encountered—people who shared the name “Ji Gwanyeong.” One memory, in particular, stood out: the elderly man, delighted to meet someone with the same name before he passed away, had even brought his children along. But upon noticing the slight difference in the name’s lettering, he’d gotten so upset that he nearly had a stroke and had to be rushed to the hospital.

Looking back, it seemed like an amusing memory, but a question soon followed in Taehun’s mind. He exhaled the smoke he’d deeply inhaled, directing it away from Gwanyeong, and asked,
“But how did you know I did that? Did Jihyun tell you?”

“No. After the fan signing, I looked into you.”

The Esper casually confessed to what sounded like a crime. Taehun’s voice, for the first time, carried a hint of disbelief.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”

Gwanyeong began recounting how he had investigated his lover.
“Your age, school, workplace, family, the Esper-matching system… everything I could find.”

Taehun’s mouth fell open, momentarily forgetting the cigarette in his hand. Gwanyeong glanced at the burning filter and narrowed his eyes slightly, amused.

“What kind of celebrity stalks people like this?”
“I even knew you had five siblings back then. That’s how I knew to go straight to the site in Gangnam.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”

The truth was finally coming out—just before the memories were lost forever.

It really was a brutal romance. Taehun had never imagined sharing the same name as a top star like Ji Gwanyeong. Yet here the man was, confessing that he’d dug into every detail of his life as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“What would’ve been the point?”

The voice, so unapologetically straightforward, carried a tone that seemed genuinely clueless, making it feel just a bit shameless. Taehun almost blurted out, “Then why are you telling me now what you didn’t bother to before?” But he quickly shut his mouth.

He already knew the answer before asking.

The reason was painfully clear: tomorrow, this man before him—his pair—would no longer be his.

Specifically, he would have to relinquish his authority in his relationship with Ji Gwanyeong and hand it over to Lee Hansol. How that guide came to possess such a power was beyond his comprehension, but apparently, Hansol had the ability to do so.

Taehun inhaled deeply from the dwindling cigarette and stubbed it out. A faint sigh was all that remained between the pair.

“Ji Gwanyeong.”
“…Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”

Gwanyeong had a habit of always asking for a clear explanation. He wanted to know exactly what and why. At first, Taehun found this meticulous nature a bit overwhelming, but now, every time he heard such questions, he felt compelled to give Gwanyeong the most precise answers he could.

“For not stopping that guide, Lee Hansol… from doing what he did. I’ve thought about it a lot. Honestly, I’m still wavering.”

“…”

“Should I have stopped him? If I’d just turned a blind eye and ignored it, maybe we wouldn’t be in this absurd situation. But then again, would someone like the ‘teacher’ have failed to find another way? No, if they wanted to, they’d have done it regardless. Maybe this is the better outcome. Ah, I’ve had so many conflicting thoughts.”

Gwanyeong liked this honesty about his guide.

He appreciated the moments when Taehun, after long bouts of contemplation, would lay bare his thoughts and struggles. During such times, Taehun always looked at him with unwavering eyes.

Gwanyeong reached out to touch the cheek of his sleep-deprived lover, whose dark circles betrayed his exhaustion. The guide, whose face had been stiff all day, finally flinched under the ticklish sensation and squinted slightly, as if in irritation.

“And yet, I feel like I’d make the same choice if I were back in that moment,” Taehun said, his voice uncertain. “Though… I can’t say for sure.”

Gwanyeong’s gaze turned genuinely curious. Of course, under the ‘teacher’s’ experimental conditions, Taehun’s actions might have seemed inevitable. But if he were to go back to the moment when he ignored Oh Yeon and chose to kill that guide, wouldn’t choosing differently have prevented the current situation?

Taehun seemed to understand this unspoken question. He licked his dry lips and exhaled a long sigh. He, too, had spent the entire day grappling with this thought.

He knew well enough that dwelling on an unchangeable past and imagining alternate outcomes was futile. Yet, it was the only way his mind could process everything.

The guide finally spoke, slowly and deliberately.
“Does an Esper really feel nothing after killing someone?”

“…”