“Why should you bear the burden of such actions when the one truly at fault is someone else? If Oh Jinwoo loses control and something happens, you’ll end up taking all the blame again, won’t you?”

The way his face caught the light streaming in from the living room, the way he spoke each word with deliberate emphasis—it all felt mesmerizing. To realize so clearly that he loved the man in front of him, only a day before he was destined to forget everything, was an ironic twist that left him uneasy.

The Esper frowned faintly, a hazy smile forming on his lips.

“Ji Gwanyeong isn’t someone who should have to do such things. Not ever.”

Ji Gwanyeong had killed only two people in his life.

One was a butler who had betrayed him with a smiling face, plunging a knife into his back when he was most vulnerable. The other was an Esper at the scene of the Gangnam terror incident who had threatened Choi Taehun. If someone asked whether he felt guilt or pain from those actions, his honest answer would be no—not at all.

To him, those moments were little more than minor episodes.

But Ji Gwanyeong knew the deeper truth behind those two incidents: they marked the moments when the human Ji Gwanyeong became a monster.

A monster who could kill without hesitation. A creature of pure, unrelenting power.

Choi Taehun, however, always treated Ji Gwanyeong as an ordinary person and his one and only lover. It was Taehun who first saw the vulnerability hidden beneath the monster’s exterior, and it was Taehun who taught him how to live a normal life—falling asleep on the couch while watching TV, waking up in the morning with messy hair, and sharing meals like any other person.

The Esper silently watched his lover before finally speaking.
“And even knowing this will happen again?”

Taehun’s lips pressed into a firm line.

He gazed out through the veranda, lost in thought, before reaching for another cigarette from the pack on the table. Ji Gwanyeong watched as Taehun lit it, his brow slightly furrowed. It was probably his third or fourth cigarette by now, but it didn’t feel like the right moment to comment. Instead, Gwanyeong tilted his head slightly, quietly taking in the sight before him.

The way Taehun’s cheeks hollowed as he drew in smoke, only to exhale moments later, was strangely captivating.

“…To be honest, I regretted it again. Just now. For about three seconds,” Taehun admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.

“I thought as much.”

Gwanyeong’s response carried a faint trace of amusement. Taehun liked that lazy, relaxed smile his Esper wore. After a pause, he began to speak again.

“Actually, I’m scared.”

The words were slow and deliberate, almost like a confession.

The guide’s carefully composed expression finally wavered, and Gwanyeong found himself oddly comforted by the sight. He knew how desperately Taehun was trying to maintain his calm, to hide his unease so Gwanyeong wouldn’t worry or feel burdened.

“I can’t imagine a reality where Ji Gwanyeong doesn’t recognize me or where we can’t even be matched. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring.”

“…”

“But if—just if—”

“Choi Taehun.”

Ji Gwanyeong cut off Taehun’s hesitant words. Taehun turned to look at his Esper, taking in the beautiful face of the man who now stared back at him with unwavering intensity.

“Don’t ever give up on me.”

This time, it was Choi Taehun’s turn.

If the Esper had been the one to start knowing about the guide first, this time the guide had to approach first. Choi Taehun inhaled the smoke deeply, then exhaled, replying in a raspy voice.

“…I naturally intended to do so.”

The conclusion Taehun had drawn while smoking dozens of cigarettes by himself was simple. He was the type to think deeply but briefly, and then immediately act on it.

Morning came, and the pair headed to the center together.

In the center’s hall, where Oh Jinwoo had been bound, now stood a massive machine. Its sole purpose was to anesthetize Ji Gwanyeong. As Taehun passed by on his way to the director’s office, he furrowed his brow at the sight. The researchers nearby couldn’t even bear to meet Taehun’s eyes, knowing how long they had worked with the guide.

The teacher, with a wide smile, walked towards them as if flying, accompanied by Lee Hansol. Director Kwon Dahee sat in her chair with a somewhat haggard face, clearly having not slept a wink.

Taehun briefly looked around for Lee Miyeon, but she was nowhere to be found. Behind the director were Oh Yeon and Oh Jinwoo.

“Hahaha! Welcome, welcome. I’ve been waiting!”

Taehun gave a brief smile in response, then turned his gaze to Lee Hansol, who wore a slightly arrogant expression. When their eyes met, Lee Hansol grinned as if he had won.

Ji Gwanyeong found this attitude utterly displeasing. He could not stand Lee Hansol’s arrogance. He was the complete opposite of Taehun in terms of demeanor—frustratingly so.

The teacher, looking excited, rubbed his palms together, his face flushed with enthusiasm.

“Now then. Ji Gwanyeong’s ‘information removal process’ will take place after anesthesia. Someone of your caliber can’t be dealt with unless the guard is completely down.”

Ji Gwanyeong, sitting with his chin resting on his hand at an angle, held back many things he wanted to say in front of the teacher. If he spoke his mind, he might end up mocking and taunting them. Instead, he lightly swiped Taehun’s slightly sweaty palm and, with a subtle nod, gestured toward the teacher.

“And Choi Taehun will lead the work with Lee Hansol. It will be difficult at first, a bit nauseating even. There’s a quiet room the center has prepared for you, so you can head there.”

“…”

“Oh! Of course, after the experiment, regardless of the results, I’ll return the matching rate with Ji Gwanyeong. Though I’m not sure if it will still be needed then.”

While Ji Gwanyeong showed no reaction to the talk of matching rates, Taehun clenched his teeth at the mention of his own vulnerability. That was the issue he most wanted to confirm.

“How can I trust those words?”

The teacher’s glasses gleamed oddly, obscuring the folded eyes behind them. The director, suppressing an incoming sigh, swallowed hard. As long as they didn’t figure out how the teacher was killing the guides, the game pieces in this board were completely controlled by the teacher.

It was frustrating, infuriating even, but they had no choice but to comply.

“Hah, trust is necessary between you and me, Choi Taehun. But really, I never lie to my precious test subjects. It’s always you guys who lie.”

“The test subjects always lie.”

Director Kwon Dahee raised his head, having dropped it at those familiar words. The teacher had always said this phrase as a habit, even 20 years ago. The wide, grotesque smile that stretched across his face was repulsive.

Taehun silently observed the teacher, then spoke in a calm voice. Only Ji Gwanyeong, whose nervous hand was held by Taehun, could sense the slight tremble in the pair’s exchange.

“Teacher.”

“Yes?”

“…In that case, I will propose a condition for the experiment.”

The teacher, who had been absentmindedly tapping his fingers, suddenly stopped. With his head tilted at an unnaturally strange angle, he looked at Choi Taehun with a blank expression.

“If my condition is not accepted, I will not participate in this experiment. I too need some insurance, don’t I?”

Taehun’s heart began to race. Ji Gwanyeong, trembling in fear yet trying not to show weakness, found his guide’s determination endearing, and he couldn’t help but let out a small smile.

It was a nice sight, but it felt completely out of place in the tense atmosphere where no one dared to breathe.

Oh Yeon, watching the man’s pale face, felt a dryness in his mouth.

After a long silence, the teacher slowly opened his mouth.

“Are you all going to die?”

Taehun quickly swallowed his breath.

It was an obvious reaction of tension and fear. The visible trembling of his eyes couldn’t hide his emotional turmoil. Ji Gwanyeong, still smiling slightly, tightly held his guide’s hand. Taehun, seemingly drawing courage from that, took a deep breath and asked in a firm voice.

“…You won’t be able to conduct the experiment, will you?”

An eerie silence followed.

Even Lee Hansol, who had been watching his ‘father’ teacher, furrowed his brow and shot a sideways glance at Taehun. The teacher, still with that creepy, emotionless face, continued to gaze at Taehun with wide eyes, offering no reaction.

The guide swallowed dryly under that intense stare. He was afraid he might regret this action once more. But the silence was broken in an instant, as the teacher put on a different expression.

“Ha, hahaha, hahaha! Ha! Ha! Hahaha!”

Seeing the teacher laugh maniacally, Director Kwon Dahee, for some inexplicable reason, felt a chill creep up her spine and unconsciously rubbed her arm. After having manifested as an Esper, she couldn’t quite recall ever feeling so intimidated by anyone.

“Alright, alright. Let’s hear it. Let’s try it. Hahaha! Ha! Variables are always fun.”

The teacher’s guttural laugh echoed.

He was genuinely enjoying this now. The experiment conditions the pair were presenting—guides and Espers who would lose all their proof of identity in just a few hours—this was as amusing as it got.

The teacher approached Taehun, his eyes sparkling, and asked with delight.

“So? What is it, Choi Taehun? What is the experimental condition you’re proposing?”

Taehun, whose mind had gone blank for a moment due to the tension, gathered his thoughts and steadied his voice, which was hard to produce. It was hard to believe that the once kind and warm middle-aged man before him was now standing there with complete fear in his eyes.

A small sigh escaped from Taehun’s lips again. He stared directly into the teacher’s wide, unblinking eyes.

“I ask that you give this guide ‘counseling’.”

Director Kwon Dahee, along with Oh Yeon and Oh Jinwoo, were so focused on Taehun’s words that they forgot to breathe for a moment. Watching the guide, who was far weaker than them, trembling in fear yet still opposing the teacher in front of them stirred an unexpected feeling deep within.

“For example… something like this.”