ATTS Ch 1

The view outside the window was entirely white. Unless the whole world had transformed into a hospital room, such a scene was quite unfamiliar. Confirming that the inside and outside were the same with the window as the boundary, Shin Jeha’s complexion remained as pale as ever.

It was a rare heavy snowfall these days. Due to the strike by the group of esper civil servants that began a few days ago, snow removal had not been done, and the garden was completely buried in snow.

The romantic notion thatsnow gently blankets the world was nonexistent. The roads, frozen with tangled, stained footprints, were terribly filthy.

Shin Jeha pressed himself close to the window. The glass, which should have fogged up with body heat or breath, showed no change. Through the transparent window, Shin Jeha quietly looked down at the outside.

This single pane of glass separated Shin Jeha from the world.

“Jeha, don’t cling to the window like that. What if you catch a cold?”

A man approached, pushing a wheelchair. The scenery in Shin Jeha’s eyes gradually receded. The place he belonged was not out there but in here. A place where he had to accept the intrusion of others without complaint.

“It’s chaos out there, isn’t it? The commute was rough today. Normally, the espers would have cleared it all up by now.”

The hem of Kim Sanghyun’s pants, a center employee who had just visited Shin Jeha, was completely soaked. He complained about the snow-covered streets and got upset that his newly bought sneakers were ruined. He grumbled that an unpleasant sound came from the soles with every step. Even in a natural disaster-like situation, he harshly criticized the espers who neglected their duties to continue the strike.

“Don’t you think so? They’re civil servants, after all. No matter how important the strike is, they should do their jobs while striking. Isn’t that what taxes are for?”

While complaining, Kim Sanghyun suddenly realized. The boy in the wheelchair was also an esper.

An esper for whom catching a cold was irrelevant.

Flustered, Kim Sanghyun quickly observed Shin Jeha. As usual, he wore an indifferent expression, as if he hadn’t heard anything, focusing only on the dog lying on his lap. Relieved, Kim Sanghyun continued pushing the wheelchair.

In truth, Shin Jeha had no interest in his words.

When alone, the corridor that seemed endlessly far moved quickly. Today was a special holiday, and only a few center employees were at work. In particular, on the 23rd floor of the Korea Esper Management Center, within the restricted isolation zone, there was only Shin Jeha and Kim Sanghyun, who had rushed to work upon being called.

“Did you sleep well last night? No particular pains, I suppose… Did you get your morning injection?”

Shin Jeha nodded in place of a verbal response. Kim Sanghyun knew that the pale boy in hospital clothes lacked the energy to speak.

“That’s good to hear.”

But at the same time, Kim Sanghyun had to make an effort not to reveal the strange discomfort that surged every time he saw Shin Jeha. Despite being clearly an adult, Shin Jeha still had the face of an unaged boy.

Whenever he met those empty eyes, quietly observing life, Kim Sanghyun felt as if he were dealing with a dead person rather than a living one. An incomprehensible entity [Ideal Response] entity remained unsettling no matter how many times he saw it.

Shin Jeha, who would turn twenty-three in a few days, had been confined in the center, barely sustaining his life, for nearly five years now. Espers who couldn’t properly use their abilities due to wavelength issues or had severe conditions due to guiding problems were typically sent to the special ward of the National Esper Hospital on the remote island of Euldo in the South Sea.

But Shin Jeha was an exception. He stayed in a temporary hospital room set up within the center’s isolation zone.

The decision to bring Shin Jeha to the center, even converting a medical office into a hospital room, was naturally made by higher-ups. Many among the staff didn’t understand the special treatment he received.

Still, Kim Sanghyun had enough compassion to feel a trace of sympathy for the young esper who was barely clinging to life. Perhaps that sympathy was why he was assigned to care for him.

Numerous diagnoses followed Shin Jeha’s name, and the cause of all his symptoms was singular.

An esper who couldn’t receive guiding.

After awakening, he had never received proper guiding. Left alone in the cold winter, his worsening physical condition left him unable to walk, confining him to a wheelchair. His emaciated body, too thin for regular clothes, was dressed only in hospital gowns.

Above all, Shin Jeha’s body temperature was inhuman. It was cold enough to freeze on the spot. Even the dog, fattened with thick fur for the winter, would startle whenever it touched him. It would lift its head to confirm who was touching it before finally relaxing.

The dog lay on Shin Jeha’s lap, occupying the most comfortable spot, eyes closed. Passing by the window frame, the occasional draft stung the back of Shin Jeha’s hand, as if it were cracking.

When the wheelchair, carrying the dog and the frail esper, reached the end of the corridor, a loud alarm sounded from Kim Sanghyun’s pager. The dog’s ears perked up sharply.

“Yes, this is Kim Sanghyun from Management Support Team 3. …Ah, yes. Right now. Understood.”

Kim Sanghyun, about to leave urgently, seemed to remember something and turned back.

“Jeha, I have an urgent call, so I’ll be back soon. Wait here, okay?”

Shin Jeha nodded to indicate agreement, but Kim Sanghyun, in his haste, didn’t even check and dashed around the corner of the corridor. Staring indifferently at the disappearing figure, Shin Jeha turned his gaze to the window. It was too far to look outside.

His pale fingertips cautiously gripped the wheelchair’s wheels. The rubber and metal were warmer than the coldness of his hands. As Shin Jeha took a deep breath to exert force, it happened.

Thud, thud.

The unfamiliar sound of approaching footsteps halted Shin Jeha’s movement. The sound of people walking briskly. A mix of dress shoes and boots. At least six or seven…

The obsessively uniform footsteps were not those of ordinary people.

The dog, which had been quietly pretending to sleep on Shin Jeha’s lap, opened its eyes wide upon hearing the sound.

Bark, bark!

Before it could be stopped, the dog leapt off the wheelchair. Startled, Shin Jeha reached out to grab it, but it was too late.

Panicked, Shin Jeha tried to move toward where the dog had gone, but the wheelchair wouldn’t budge.

Bark!

Where the dog’s barking came from, the sound of footsteps also stopped. Cold sweat formed on the back of Shin Jeha’s hand, gripping the unmoving wheelchair wheels.

“It’s fine, it’s just a dog, no big deal.”

It was a very cool, low voice.

“But, Director, it could have been an esper.”

“No. I’m saying this because I didn’t sense anything.”

The man in a perfectly tailored British suit spoke with precise, posh pronunciation. Unlike the bodyguards with mixed accents from various countries, his speech was highly refined and elegant. He calmly reassured the bodyguards.

Shin Jeha found himself unwittingly focusing on the man’s voice. Though he couldn’t understand a single word of the rapid English, it was undoubtedly a voice he wanted to keep listening to.

The exceptionally memorable, sophisticated voice stood out distinctly from the others. Each syllable, sharply articulated, seemed to resonate from deep within his throat, sometimes giving a dry, cool impression.

“Director, if we find out it’s dangerous, it’ll already be too late.”

“No. You’re all overly tense. I don’t know what you think of Korea, but this isn’t a conflict zone. What could happen in the center’s isolation zone?”

“Director, isn’t this your first time in Korea? And this is our job, too.”

Woof, woof!

The dog, held by the bodyguards following the man, barked sharply. Shin Jeha, who had been entranced by the unfamiliar voice, snapped back to reality and gripped the wheels again. The dog’s barking echoed in the air. It was surely caught by them.

Sweat beaded on Shin Jeha’s forehead from his desperate effort. At times like this, he resented his inability to speak.

“Director, I’m sorry to interrupt, but I can’t agree. Look at the center’s attitude. Aren’t they seriously uncooperative? It would have been better to deal with the military from the start.”

This time, it was a different voice, speaking Korean.

“Well, we’ll see how long they keep up their stubbornness.”

The man, who had been speaking English, now responded in fluent Korean. His sharp, cool voice carried an arrogant ease.

“That’s true, but…”

The bodyguard glared menacingly at the dog, gripping its scruff as if threatening it. A former mercenary from a private military company under Quantum, his demeanor was intimidating. The dog, which had been barking loudly, flinched, startled, and fell silent.

Kwon Yijae watched the scene with amusement.

“A dog’s better.”

No one dared respond to Kwon Yijae’s comment.

“I didn’t come here on a whim; I was invited by the government. If anything happens, it’s Korea’s responsibility. That’s what I’d prefer. Has the embassy been contacted?”

“Yes, confirmed.”

“And the response?”

“It seems Korean law applies in principle. The embassy was surprised that the law was applied to you, Director…”

“If that’s the case, nothing can be done.”

Kwon Yijae understood that displeasure and understanding were distinctly different realms.

“Director, does that mean your inspection of the Korean center is complete, and your business in Korea is done?”

The people behind Kwon Yijae fell into two groups. The bodyguards he brought upon entering the country, and the employees assigned by the Korean branch. The employees didn’t know why he demanded to inspect the Korea Esper Management Center. While Quantum, a defense industry company, dealt with esper management centers, their biggest client was undoubtedly the Korean military.

“No, there’s still work left.”

The employee dispatched from the Korean branch, flustered, adjusted their glasses.

“But, Director, the schedule we received… And the board meeting is soon.”

“I plan to skip the board meeting. The chairman already knows, so no need to worry. Officially, I’ll leave as planned. Oh, and put the Korean branch manager on standby for reassignment to headquarters.”

“Understood.”

The employees were shaken by Kwon Yijae’s directive.

“Then… what about the contract discussions with the military?”

Turning his head, Kwon Yijae fixed his gaze on the employee who asked the foolish question. It was someone sent by the branch manager to ensure his comfort. Kwon Yijae found the employee, worrying about the approval chain in his presence, utterly pathetic.

Kwon Yijae despised inefficiency in all its forms. If the employee had any sense, they’d have realized he never gave pointless orders. The directive to reassign the branch manager was given for a reason.

“I’m not here to resolve your doubts.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Be more careful next time.”

With a cold warning, Kwon Yijae turned the corner and spotted a pale boy. The slight twitch of his eyebrow was the only reaction he showed.

“What’s this?”

As Kwon Yijae stopped, his entourage halted in disciplined unison. Countless eyes turned toward the boy.

The boy, dressed in hospital clothes and seated in a wheelchair, had an eerily indistinct presence. If not for the empty corridor, Kwon Yijae might not have noticed him. Like a chameleon, the pale boy simply existed within the corridor.

His unfocused, lifeless eyes, youthful high-schooler-like appearance, frail demeanor, and deathly pale skin made him seem like a critical patient who could die at any moment.

Not only Kwon Yijae but also the boy froze. Their gazes met diagonally in the air. Shin Jeha was literally frozen.

The man, seamlessly switching between English and Korean, clearly seemed Korean. Even without trying to understand the English conversation, the overwhelming aura emanating from the man, with one hand in his pocket, suggested he was someone of high status.

His dark blue eyes stood out even among the crowd. His dynamic presence couldn’t be concealed, even by the ascetic suit. Perhaps it was his strikingly handsome appearance that commanded such attention.

The pale boy slowly shifted his gaze from the man to the bodyguard, then to the captured dog. Upon spotting him, the dog whimpered pitifully. Kwon Yijae suddenly realized the dog’s owner was the boy.

“Doesn’t seem like an esper.”

Kwon Yijae’s question went unanswered by Shin Jeha. He asked again, confirming.

“The dog’s owner?”

The boy, opening and closing his mouth as if wanting to speak, gave up, exhausted. He only stared at Kwon Yijae with stubborn eyes, as if demanding the dog’s return.

He looked like he’d collapse with a nudge or die vomiting blood. Yet, Kwon Yijae felt no trace of the pity one might expect for a human.

“Ah, Director. You’re here.”

A center employee, wearing an ID badge, appeared in a hurry, calming the situation.

“There was a dog barking suddenly, so I wondered if something happened…”

“It’s nothing.”

Kwon Yijae responded, turning his head. The employee, as if blind to the dog and Shin Jeha, continued urgently.

“Director, could you spare a moment for us?”

“Well.”

The secretary stepped forward, as if on cue.

“This is inconvenient.”

“It’s important.”

“Then state your business first. We’ll decide if it’s important. We’ll contact you after reviewing the schedule.”

The strict secretary’s words left the employee flustered. According to the center’s information, Kwon Yijae was due to leave soon.

‘He’ll arrive in ten minutes. Stall him, do whatever it takes. Got it?’

The management director, rushing to the center before the state conference ended, ordered them to detain Kwon Yijae without explaining why. If Yoon Seyoung, the center’s influential director, was this urgent, it was undoubtedly critical. The employee turned to Kwon Yijae, bypassing the difficult secretary.

“Director, the management director is coming urgently. It won’t take much time.”

“The management director, hmm…”

With a displeased tone, the secretary behind Kwon Yijae snapped aggressively.

“Wasn’t it the Korean center that unilaterally canceled the scheduled meeting? If this was your plan, you shouldn’t have dragged out the inspection issue.”

“I’m sorry. That’s not my department…”

The clueless employee floundered. Kwon Yijae signaled the secretary with a glance. The secretary, quick to notice, shut their mouth but remained visibly dissatisfied.

Quantum and the Korea Esper Management Center had been unable to bridge their differences for over a week. Today was no different. Visiting for the inspection, the morning’s tedious meetings yielded no results due to the management director’s absence. The sudden shift to a submissive stance from the previously high-handed center was intriguing.

“I’m not sure if there’s anything more important than what was just discussed.”

“Well…”

The employee sighed and answered honestly.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know the details either. I was only told the management director is coming urgently…”

Kwon Yijae, expressionless, turned to the bodyguard. His hand, clad in perfectly fitted black leather gloves, grabbed the dog’s scruff. The dog, held by a stranger, flailed and barked in the air.

Watching it struggle, he supported its hind legs with his palm. With its neck no longer dangling, standing on two legs, the dog finally calmed.

He didn’t seem to cherish animals, nor did he treat them carelessly. It was the demeanor of a guest maintaining minimal courtesy, a leisurely display of pretense.

“Director?”

“Let’s address the urgent matter first.”

Holding the dog, Kwon Yijae walked toward Shin Jeha. The boy, only opening his mouth, reached for the dog as the man approached. His arm, visible under the hospital gown, was so thin the bones were starkly outlined. Instead of the unsteady hand that seemed likely to drop it, Kwon Yijae placed the dog on the boy’s lap.

Bark!

On Shin Jeha’s lap, the dog folded its hind legs and tucked its front legs, curling into a comfortable position. It seemed relieved but also wary.

“If you’re the owner, take responsibility. What if it meets someone dangerous?”

With a tone that could be a threat or a warning, Kwon Yijae patted Shin Jeha’s thigh, where his hand rested, a couple of times. It meant to be careful next time. True to his words, Shin Jeha tried to push the man’s hand away to protect the dog.

Between the leather glove and the shirt, a cold finger brushed against the slightly exposed wrist in a fleeting moment.

A chillingly cold temperature. A sudden sensation like an electric current. A complex tangle of wavelengths flickered faintly in the man’s eyes before vanishing.

“What’s this?”

The man, seeing something he shouldn’t have, dropped his leisurely demeanor. Frowning, Kwon Yijae glared at the boy with menacing eyes. The boy in the wheelchair’s gaze also wavered.

It happened in an instant.

A fleeting, eerie sensation that came and went so quickly it felt like a dream or reality. Something that occurred the moment skin touched skin. Neither Kwon Yijae’s intent nor Shin Jeha’s expectation, it was an uncontrollable force.

Shin Jeha’s lips trembled, as if entranced by the sensation.

“Sor… ry…”

Shin Jeha’s eyes, usually delivering silent words, slowly widened in shock. Not because of the hoarse, lifeless sound that emerged from his throat.

Shin Jeha was undeniably unable to speak.

“Not mute, then.”

Kwon Yijae didn’t hide his displeasure. Strangely, the boy before him no longer seemed as indistinct as before, nor were his eyes as murky as a dead fish’s. His clear gaze fixed precisely on him.

From that moment, Kwon Yijae began to see the boy differently. The assumption of his lack of presence was a clear mistake. The faint shadow under his eyes, visible on his pale white skin, stood out decadently. His unblinking eyes, staring only at Kwon Yijae, shimmered with an unusual light. His appearance was undeniably captivating enough to enthrall anyone.

To think he’d considered such a face as barely noticeable until moments ago? Kwon Yijae knew his eyes weren’t mistaken. Then, something that shouldn’t have happened had occurred.

In other words, a contact accident.

A fierce smile curled on Kwon Yijae’s lips.

“Director, are you alright?”

“Well, it’s something.”

Indeed, pretense was meaningless. There was no reason to show unnecessary kindness.

“Director Kwon…? The management director has arrived and is heading this way…”

An employee, half-covering their phone, spoke with relief. Kwon Yijae turned, masking his expression. The person the employee faced was no longer the guide before an esper but Nathaniel Kwon, director of Quantum.

“Good. Let’s meet. It seems there’s something to confirm. Where are they now?”

“Oh! Then… this way, please!”

Having successfully detained Kwon Yijae as per the director’s orders, the employee led them to the opposite end of the corridor. Shin Jeha still couldn’t take his eyes off Kwon Yijae, but the man, cold as a winter wind, passed the wheelchair indifferently.

The many people following him glanced at the wheelchair as they passed. But Shin Jeha had no interest in them.

His pale hand moved to gently stroke the dog. The dog glared at Shin Jeha but didn’t startle as usual.

Thanks to the slight warmth in his body.

“…Ah, ah…”

Shin Jeha opened his mouth, exhaling deeply, gripped the wheelchair’s handles, and tried to stand. Strength entered his toes, and the sensation of his soles touching the ground was vivid.

Attempting to rise, Shin Jeha fell back onto the wheelchair. Regained sensation didn’t mean a patient who hadn’t walked in years could immediately do so.

“Ha, huff…”

Only after he was gone did Shin Jeha realize, belatedly.

“…Guiding.”

You only know the wind blows after it passes, and you only realize you’re wet after the rain.

“That man was definitely a guide.”

A sensation he’d never experienced in his life. It was as if light suddenly entered a dark place for the first time, as if his muffled body, submerged deep underwater, was momentarily pulled to the surface.

“So that’s what guiding is…”

Shin Jeha was both right and wrong. Such brief contact wasn’t proper guiding. But he instinctively understood what the brief contact with the man meant because he was an esper.

An esper with completely broken wavelengths.

“It was guiding.”

Convinced, Shin Jeha gripped the wheelchair wheels again. The sensation at his fingertips was entirely different from before. The wheels seemed to roll smoothly the moment he applied force. With a glint in his eyes, Shin Jeha was about to chase the guide when—

“Oh, Jeha. Did you wait long?”

Kim Sanghyun appeared from the direction the people had gone. His earlier discomfort forgotten, his face refreshed, he gripped the wheelchair’s handles again.

“Let’s go. You need to get to your checkup.”

As the wheelchair moved, Shin Jeha grew flustered. The direction Kim Sanghyun was taking him was the opposite of where the people had gone.

“…There, outsiders, seem to be.”

The unexpected voice startled Kim Sanghyun, stopping him in his tracks. Though not a clear sentence, the raspy voice formed distinct words. But it was eerily devoid of intonation.

“Hm?”

“Who.”

“Shin, Jeha?”

“What, person.”

With each exchange, Shin Jeha’s voice grew clearer. Voicing his thoughts was still awkward, but he was undeniably ‘speaking’ his intentions.

“Jeha, did you just speak?”

Shocked, Kim Sanghyun let go of the wheelchair and came around to check Shin Jeha’s face.

“…Yes.”

It was indeed Shin Jeha who spoke.

“How, suddenly…”

He’d lost his voice a year ago. He was little more than a breathing corpse. This was a fact everyone at the center knew.

“Well… that’s good, I guess…”

Regardless, Kim Sanghyun’s priority was getting Shin Jeha to the examination room.

‘Shin Jeha’s… wavelength test? Why suddenly?’

‘There’s a reason. Just bring Jeha. Don’t tell him anything… Oh, no need for that. Just say I called for him.’

The attending doctor seemed unusually urgent, unlike usual.

‘Got it.’

The fact that Shin Jeha could speak wasn’t more important than the doctor’s orders he’d just received. Regaining focus, Kim Sanghyun answered his question while pushing the wheelchair.

“You mean the people who just passed? They’re from Quantum. I heard they came to inspect the center today.”

Quantum was a global defense industry company based in the UK. Originally a military-industrial complex, Quantum established a research institute to study the mechanisms of espers and guides as soon as they emerged. The groundbreaking results from that institute became Quantum’s assets.

In simple terms, they were patent monsters and arms dealers.

Quantum did what they did best with their research. First, they created weapons for espers. Then, they developed devices to control espers. Later, they invented technologies to assist espers. Now, Quantum had grown to wield influence over the UK government and nations worldwide.

Quantum…

But Shin Jeha dismissed the fact from his mind. The important thing was that he had to meet that man again.

“Hyung.”

Urgently.

“Huh? What?”

Well-trained espers used ESP as naturally as breathing, but for Shin Jeha now, it was impossible. To use ESP, he needed direct contact.

Shin Jeha reached out and lightly touched Kim Sanghyun’s wrist. A chilling sensation surged from where his fingertips met. Startled by the cold, Kim Sanghyun shivered.

“Sorry.”

It didn’t sound apologetic at all.

“Hm?”

As Kim Sanghyun, puzzled, tried to pull Shin Jeha’s wrist away, an unfamiliar sensation made him flinch. At that moment, ESP flooded into him.

“Shin Je…”

Before finishing, Kim Sanghyun’s eyes closed, and he slid down the wall. Collapsing to the floor, his body went limp, his head dropping forward. Using that small bit of ability left Shin Jeha’s face not just pale but ghostly white.

“Guh!”

The backlash from using ESP caused blood to gush out. Despite the pain, Shin Jeha, accustomed to this, wiped the blood on his clothes.

More concerning was Kim Sanghyun. Looking at him slumped on the floor, Shin Jeha seemed to get an idea and stared at the dog.

“Kimkuk.”

Recognizing its name, the dog barked excitedly.

“Please. Watch over hyung.”

Bark!

“I’ll be back soon.”

Bark bark!

Leaping off the wheelchair, the dog sat bravely by Kim Sanghyun’s side, front legs together. Shin Jeha gave a short smile, as if entrusting the task.

The tingling sensation from his palms gripping the wheelchair wheels was welcome. To find the man he absolutely had to meet, Shin Jeha moved slowly but steadily in the direction he’d disappeared.

Sending the employees back to the company, Kwon Yijae, accompanied by bodyguards, went to meet the management director. The center employee, who had practically begged, led him to the meeting room. Inside, the director was waiting.

“Hello, Director Kwon Yijae. Welcome to the center. I’m Management Director Yoon Seyoung.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Nathaniel Kwon from Quantum.”

Kwon Yijae corrected his name, extending his right hand. The handshake, offered without removing his glove, didn’t faze the director, who knew the rumors. He was a guide, wary of all espers. The director was an esper herself.

“I thought we wouldn’t meet today, given your busy schedule.”

“Government agencies are always swamped. So many places to coordinate with.”

“More than a private company?”

Unlike the leisurely Kwon Yijae, the director took a cool stance.

“Director Kwon. We’re both busy people. I hear you don’t like beating around the bush? I’ll get to the point.”

“Go ahead.”

“The Korean center is willing to cooperate with Project K.”

Hearing the words from the director’s mouth, Kwon Yijae nearly scoffed. Project K was the real reason he’d come to Korea. Korea was the most suitable country for Project K’s clinical trials, but also the most suspicious of its intentions.

The cooperative entity for the project was the Esper Management Center. They’d been engaged in a power struggle with Kwon Yijae. That’s why they repeatedly rejected his inspection requests, despite his entry into Korea at the military’s invitation. In turn, Kwon Yijae had been frustrating the military by delaying signing the weapons supply contract.

The center bringing up this topic first meant one thing. They wanted something from Kwon Yijae.

Though mixed-race, Kwon Yijae’s appearance bore little trace of it. Tracing his lineage, he was closer to Korean.

In Kwon Yijae’s maternal family, a major Quantum shareholder, all members were educated to speak Korean fluently. While not forced to adopt Korean sensibilities, he grew up bilingual.

But his nationality was British, and his entire foundation was in the UK, where Quantum’s headquarters were. He was born, raised, and held citizenship in the UK.