ATTS Ch 2

It hadn’t even been three weeks before heavy snow blanketed the world once more. Unlike England, Korea’s weather was fiendishly capricious. The roads were congested with cars honking furiously.

It had been ages since Kwon Yijae had seen streets painted white with snow. Sitting in the back of the sedan, gazing out, he asked in an indifferent voice,

“Isn’t it barbaric?”

“…Pardon?”

“I was just thinking it’s been quite a while since I’ve seen this much snow.”

“I heard the Espers are on strike. Something about the Esper Rights Association. Well, I suppose the plight of Espers is difficult whether they’re here or in my country, but I wonder if they realize it’s the ordinary citizens who suffer because of it.”

As if agreeing with the biting remark, Kwon Yijae nodded slightly. Neither an Esper nor a Guide, Aiden Jung was thoroughly capable of thinking from an ordinary person’s perspective, which was precisely why he had been chosen as Yijae’s secretary.

“Our afternoon schedule has been significantly delayed because of this.”

“Is there a problem?”

“No, not at all, sir. I just mentioned it since we were talking about it. I just find that… pathetic.”

Aiden, newly arrived from England, fixed his gaze on the Espers picketing stoically, their faces hidden by masks and hats. The passersby did not look kindly upon them.

Kwon Yijae cracked the window separating the inside from the outside world. Along with the cold air, he heard a child’s wail. It seemed the child had stumbled and fallen in the snow.

Before their parent could stop them, the child ran toward the protesting Espers, hitting them with tiny fists and yelling before finally bursting into tears.

“Indeed.”

Kwon Yijae turned his head and said,

“It truly is a pathetic sight.”

However, the window remained open. Aiden, observing his unreadable boss, cautiously asked,

“But, Director… There’s something I truly, absolutely cannot understand. The reason you’re still staying in Korea…”

“If it’s something you need to know, you’ll find out when the time comes.”

“I apologize, Director.”

“No, it’s natural to be curious. But this will be the last time I answer that question, so keep that in mind.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Kwon Yijae wasn’t a capricious man. Aiden knew that his occasional impulsive actions were related to Quantum’s secretive projects. However, Aiden didn’t have the clearance to access those projects.

A member of Quantum’s owner family, but having chosen neutrality in the succession struggle, Kwon Yijae was one of the most highly secured individuals within the company. Aiden still couldn’t understand why Yijae wasn’t interested in managing the company, why he loathed the idea of succession, and he deeply regretted his lack of understanding.

“Director.”

The bodyguard in the front seat, who hadn’t spoken a word until now, said curtly.

“Should I contact the Korea Center?”

Near Quantum’s Korean branch, by the main gate and the connected main street, Shin Jeha could be seen in his wheelchair, his youthful face hidden behind a mask.

“How many days has it been?”

“Including today, fifteen.”

Shin Jeha’s physician, Dr. Lim Younghoon, had authored several influential papers on Esper and Guide wavelengths, so Kwon Yijae was familiar with him. To be precise, he was more of a researcher than a doctor. His being a physician for an Esper was surprising given his renown.

Dr. Lim had formally requested a meeting with Kwon Yijae, citing the wavelength test results of both Shin Jeha and Yijae.

Kwon Yijae responded by sending an official document stamped by the British Embassy. It was a threat stating that guiding requests based on test results conducted without the consent of the Guide’s home country were inadmissible.

Since then, an uninvited guest had been visiting Quantum daily. Shin Jeha in his wheelchair, along with a Center employee.

Kwon Yijae would arrive at work, seeing Shin Jeha waiting for him outside. Of course, the car window never rolled down, and he would leave Jeha there, seemingly abandoned, all day. The same applied when he left work. Jeha was always there, fixed like a statue. Maintaining a passive stance, as if observing, despite having come all this way.

“It’s strange.”

His seemingly detached attitude, his air of world-weariness, yet the patience that drove him to keep coming back. The contradictions within Shin Jeha puzzled Kwon Yijae.

It was only natural. What era was this? Shin Jeha wasn’t even in a motorized wheelchair, but one of those antiquated, manually operated ones. Presumably, the Korean Center wanted to restrict Jeha’s movement, yet the employee who accompanied him would come into the Quantum building every day and pester Yijae to meet with Jeha.

Yijae couldn’t understand why they would leave Jeha out on the street like that. What if he disappeared, or ran away?

Was it neglect or trust? Freedom or restriction? Cherishing or confinement? It was overflowing with ironies that made judgment difficult.

“He doesn’t seem desperate, nor does he seem to be trying to garner sympathy, but he’s persistent.”

If Shin Jeha were more desperate, he would have barged into Quantum and caused a scene, demanding to see Kwon Yijae. If he wanted sympathy, he would have made himself look as pitiful as possible to attract attention. If that were the case, Kwon Yijae might have already gotten rid of him and forgotten about him completely.

From inside the car, which had pulled up right beside Jeha, Yijae could see his profile. The thin, loosely worn padding revealed his hospital gown and gaunt limbs underneath. He couldn’t see Jeha’s expression because of the mask, but he could clearly see his eyes.

His resolute gaze was distinct.

The vague presence, the lifeless eyes like those of a rotten fish, were as if a phantom. Shin Jeha was holding his ground with remarkably clear eyes.

“That, in its own way, is quite…”

Shin Jeha was always in the same spot, looking at the Quantum building. As if scrutinizing the faces of everyone who entered and exited. Though Kwon Yijae always traveled by car, so they never actually crossed paths.

“Yes?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just thinking aloud.”

“Speaking of which, Director. Are you really… certain he’s an Esper?”

“Did you see his face?”

“Yes.”

Aiden answered seriously. His doubt was perfectly valid.

“He is an Esper. I confirmed it myself.”

“…Should I look into the details?”

“No. There’s no need.”

If there ever came a time when that answer was needed, Kwon Yijae wanted to hear it directly from Shin Jeha’s mouth, not from a document. He was extremely intrigued by Shin Jeha’s unconventional aspects. Of course, it wasn’t interest as a Guide, but something closer to Kwon Yijae’s inherent nature.

There were countless Espers in the world, and as a director of Quantum, Kwon Yijae could confidently say he had met more Espers than anyone else. Espers generally possessed appearances that stimulated Guides. It was a product of evolution, a means of survival.

But no Esper, not a single one, had an appearance as youthful as Shin Jeha’s.

Shin Jeha himself must have found it strange. That’s why he hid his face with a mask, disguised himself. The reason he so persistently sought out Kwon Yijae must be his unwavering determination.

Due to the terrible traffic jam, the car carrying Kwon Yijae was stuck in the middle of the road for a long time. As the car slowly moved toward the underground parking lot, Shin Jeha’s figure, visible through the tinted windows, gradually disappeared. However, a faint afterimage seemed to linger in Kwon Yijae’s vision.

“What motivates such desperation?”

“Pardon?”

He hadn’t necessarily expected an answer, but Aiden replied as if it were obvious.

“The will to live, isn’t it?”

Kwon Yijae couldn’t understand. Aiden, not being an Esper, might think and speak like an ordinary person, but the subject of his thoughts was an Esper. Espers didn’t die, nor did they go insane. The reality of having to endure all kinds of pain while remaining sane was horrifying.

But an Esper who had never received guiding might be closer to a human than an Esper.

“I suppose so.”

“Isn’t that the case? This is just my opinion and experience, but the motivations for human desperation and urgency aren’t that uncommon.”

“That’s true.”

To Kwon Yijae, who believed that Espers were extremely fragile beings who clung to life because they lacked the courage to die, their desperation was one of the most incomprehensible emotions.

Then which category did Shin Jeha fall into? As he pondered this, Kwon Yijae suddenly realized that Shin Jeha’s existence was sparking an interest within him that hadn’t been there before.

More precisely, it was his apparent single-mindedness that drew him in. Someone that desperate must be prepared to endure anything to survive.

Shame, humiliation, unbearable violence.

Perhaps this was the fundamental reason Kwon Yijae was observing Shin Jeha.

The top floor of Quantum’s Korean branch in Gwanghwamun had originally been vacant. It had gained an occupant less than a month ago. Kwon Yijae proceeded to the top floor. His office was located on that floor, decked out with the latest ESP-related specialized equipment.

The employees guarding the office entrance stood up in succession upon seeing Kwon Yijae. They hesitated, their faces troubled, unsure who should speak. Aiden, who was behind Yijae, asked irritably,

“Is he here again?”

“Yes, this time, the director of the Center sent him personally…”

“Are Koreans always this persistent and annoying?”

At Aiden’s sharp, impolite remark, several employees averted their gazes, unable to maintain their composure.

“That’s… He’s currently waiting downstairs… Director, what should we do?”

Numerous gazes converged on Kwon Yijae. It wasn’t just Shin Jeha who visited him daily; employees from the Korean Center did the same. The only difference was that Shin Jeha was patient, while the Center employees were inconsiderate.

“Tell him to wait since he came without an appointment.”

“Pardon?”

“Since the director sent him, I suppose I’ll meet him.”

Kwon Yijae’s schedule wouldn’t finish until after 10 p.m. If the man was still waiting then, that would be a sufficient reason to meet him. Kwon Yijae wasn’t about to waste his time on someone who couldn’t even wait that long.

The Center employee insisted on waiting, claiming he didn’t mind how long it took, as long as he could meet with Kwon Yijae. Oblivious, he drank four cups of coffee while waiting, finally earning the opportunity to meet Kwon Yijae.

It was 10:43 p.m., later than Kwon Yijae had anticipated.

“I’m Min Younggi, head of the Special Containment Division at the Esper Management Center.”

“Have a seat.”

Speaking in a businesslike tone, Kwon Yijae gestured toward the sofa instead of rising from his chair. Min Younggi sat down awkwardly on the sofa. He appeared far more normal compared to Shin Jeha.

Shin Jeha would still be shivering outside. Even at this moment. He might not even be able to return to the Center even if he wanted to. Shin Jeha, in his wheelchair, couldn’t have possibly reached Quantum on his own. The man who brought him here was undoubtedly indoors, now in front of Kwon Yijae.

A rather pathetic fellow.

“I thought it would be difficult to see you today as well, but thank you for making time for me.”

“If you had made an appointment beforehand, there would have been no need to wait.”

“But this is an urgent matter.”

“I’ll judge whether it’s urgent to me after I hear you out.”

Kwon Yijae spoke calmly, flipping through a document. The document in his hand was the man’s profile.

Special Containment Division. The same position he’d stated verbally. Specialty… Suggestion Implantation. After confirming the Esper’s information, Kwon Yijae twisted one side of his lips into a smirk.

Suggestion implantation? So that’s how they manage Espers in Korea.

“As you may have heard, we have a dying Esper at our Center. He’s a patient, and he insisted on seeing you in person today, which is why he came all the way here.”

Kwon Yijae picked up the intercom.

“Bring in the official document from the Embassy.”

Aiden immediately returned with the original copy of the document that had been sent to the Korean Center. Kwon Yijae spoke without looking at Aiden.

“Let’s read this.”

Kwon Yijae wasn’t addressing Aiden, but Min Younggi. Aiden, sensing the bewildered look on Min Younggi’s face, thrust the document in front of him and opened it.

“I’ve already reviewed this document. However, in Korea…”

“Is the Korean Center more formidable than I thought? Ignoring an official document from the Embassy and coming here anyway. Perhaps next time I should send it from 10 Downing Street to the Blue House for you to grasp the reality of the situation?”

“Director, we understand better than anyone that this is absolutely unacceptable legally. We manage all Espers in Korea. That’s why I came to see you, to earnestly request your help.”

Min Younggi quickly continued before Kwon Yijae could speak.

“Five years. He hasn’t received guiding for five years. He’s a patient, suffering constant pain, barely clinging to life every hour. He hasn’t been able to speak or walk on his own for a year now. You are his only hope. You know that Espers can’t even take their own lives, don’t you? That’s why…”

Having fully grasped Min Younggi’s profile, Kwon Yijae slammed the file shut. At the loud noise, the man closed his mouth, and Kwon Yijae chuckled softly.

“A request? It sounds like coercion to me.”

“It’s a request. Just please, meet with him just once. The Esper will explain the details himself.”

There was no need to show it on his face, but Kwon Yijae scoffed at the man’s stupidity. This man clearly thought Kwon Yijae possessed a shred of conscience, or even a flicker of sympathy. Otherwise, there would be no reason for him to plead so blatantly. But it was laughable to expect such things from an arms dealer. He needed different words to persuade Kwon Yijae.

At the same time, Kwon Yijae spotted a flaw in his words. Since his bodyguards had created a blind spot, the Korean Center wouldn’t know the specifics of what happened between Kwon Yijae and Shin Jeha. However, it was impossible to tamper with the entire Center’s CCTV circuitry. Considering the shrewd director of the Korean Center, they would definitely know that Kwon Yijae and Shin Jeha’s paths had crossed.

That meant Shin Jeha had remained silent.

He didn’t know why Jeha was playing mute when he was capable of speaking, but this was intriguing in its own way.

“And what happens after I meet him?”

“As I said, the Esper will explain the details himself…”

“I’m truly astonished in many ways. Is the Korean Center typically filled with such incompetent individuals? I let you in considering the director’s reputation, yet that’s all you have to say.”

“What did you say?”

“Considering the amount of my time you’re wasting, I expect something more useful. Drop the sentimental appeals and give me something practical.”

Kwon Yijae had never wasted his time like this anywhere. Quantum dealt with governments worldwide, and everyone he met had earned the right to be there. Government ministers, leaders of resistance groups, even heads of state.

Flustered by Kwon Yijae’s harsh words, Min Younggi tried to retort, but the moment their eyes met, a chill ran down his spine. Yijae’s face was emotionless and cold, as if he no longer needed a mask of hypocrisy.

“Speaking of which, the Korean Center should make its stance clear. From what you say, one would think you cherish this dying Esper. Was it your decision, or the Center’s, to leave a patient outside for days, even now?”

“That’s because Jeha…”

“And you dare beg for my sympathy while acting like this?”

Shin Jeha, enduring the cold winter wind outside, and the Center employee who had been waiting comfortably indoors, pestering the secretaries about when Kwon Yijae would arrive. Kwon Yijae had been comparing the two since earlier.

“Shin Jeha.”

Min Younggi’s eyes widened in surprise at the name that escaped Kwon Yijae’s lips.

“Shin Jeha is a Korean Esper. Espers belong to their respective countries, and I have no reason to stay in Korea. Since Shin Jeha is Korean, there’s even less reason for me to provide guiding. I believe I’ve said all I needed to say, so you may leave now.”

At the clear dismissal, Min Younggi hesitated. Kwon Yijae gave a slight nod, and the imposing bodyguards behind him approached. They politely but firmly tried to escort Min Younggi out of the office, but he resisted until the very end.

“Just once, just one time is all I ask.”

Kwon Yijae responded in a languid tone without even looking at him.

“If the Korean Center wants to receive a complaint call from the military, then stay there.”

At the mention of the military, Min Younggi finally gave up.

“…I apologize. I’ve overstepped my boundaries…”

Surrounded by the bodyguards, Min Younggi rose from his seat and left the office.

Did that foolish civil servant even understand what Kwon Yijae meant? Judging by his slumped shoulders, he probably didn’t, which meant the reason to meet Shin Jeha would disappear.

But if he did understand…

Then the story changed. Kwon Yijae’s feelings towards him were, in fact, nothing special. A mixture of boredom, intrigue, interest, and desire. That’s why Kwon Yijae wanted to test Shin Jeha. To see how far he would go to survive.

The unsettling desire inherent within Kwon Yijae. Something he had never imagined directed at a specific person. In the fleeting moment a distinct target appeared, Shin Jeha’s face was suddenly superimposed onto Kwon Yijae’s desires.

It might be quite a spectacle.

Of course, for that to happen, Kwon Yijae needed leverage. Some relationships thrived on imbalance. Complete control over a person was only truly achieved when it was based on an unfair relationship built upon unchanging values.

Emotions could change in an instant, and that’s why humans, governed by such beautiful emotions, were ever-changing beings.

What Kwon Yijae needed was clear. A relationship built upon the kind of emotions ingrained over a long period, sticky like tar, deep like a swamp.

It didn’t have to be emotions; something else would work too. If the patient was this proactive, his desire to live must be quite strong.

Guiding possible only by one person. So far, it was said that Kwon Yijae was the only one who could guide Shin Jeha.

And a little more. What if he changed the very nature of Shin Jeha’s wavelength, so that only Kwon Yijae could handle it? Of course, that process would involve immense pain.

Surprisingly, Kwon Yijae was the one who held the key to solving that problem. Or rather, he held a clue. Project K. If the clinical trials were successful…

Once ignited, his desire began to materialize into concrete images. Shin Jeha was now woven into every scene Kwon Yijae craved, every scene that existed only in his mind. He was the final piece Yijae hadn’t known existed.

Kwon Yijae clenched his fist and then released it. Greenish tendons stood out on the back of his hand. He took a deep breath, his perfectly fitted shirt suddenly feeling constricting. His chest rose and fell menacingly.

Yes, it was perhaps fortunate that Shin Jeha was an Esper and Kwon Yijae was a Guide.

“There’s something I need you to prepare.”

“Yes, Director. Please tell me.”

“Find a house.”

If his stay in Korea was prolonged, he couldn’t remain in a hotel indefinitely.

“A location not far from Gwanghwamun, a plot large enough to accommodate multiple mansions. Highest security level, a structure invisible and inaccessible from the outside, a containment space connected to the main house, and a basement. For now, find a place that meets these conditions.”

“I’ll look into it. Director, should I request the headquarters to appoint a branch manager for Korea?”

At Aiden’s astute question, Kwon Yijae pondered for a moment before replying,

“I’ll request that personally.”

“Understood.”

An SUV with its hazard lights flashing stopped on the side of the road. Min Younggi, ejected from the office, was helping Shin Jeha, in his wheelchair, into the vehicle. He seemed unfamiliar with the task, his movements clumsy. Even as the car door closed, Shin Jeha was still looking at the Quantum building.

It was impossible to discern his expression from the top floor where Kwon Yijae was, but Yijae felt as if he could see the look on Shin Jeha’s face as he turned away. A lingering sense of disappointment would likely remain.

Looking down at the scene, Kwon Yijae suddenly said,

“I didn’t have anything scheduled for Saturday, did I?”

“No, you were scheduled to depart.”

“Cancel it. And clear the entire company on Saturday, except for minimal essential personnel and building security. Tell Blake to arrive in Korea without delay.”

If Shin Jeha still came on Saturday…

“Pardon? …Understood.”

Just imagining it made Kwon Yijae anticipate the day.

“I apologize. Because I threatened him by mentioning the military… He also said the Prime Minister’s office would receive a complaint, so I couldn’t press the matter further.”

Min Younggi, having met with Kwon Yijae, reported truthfully to the Center Director.

“What did Director Kwon say?”

“He said he’s British, and he can’t provide guiding…”

“Did he say that exactly? Tell me precisely.”

Min Younggi recalled Kwon Yijae’s words.

“He said that Espers belong to their respective countries, and he couldn’t stay in Korea, and that Jeha is Korean. He refused guiding based on that reasoning.”

“What?”

“And do you know what else he said? He told me not to expect any sympathy from him…”

Slam! The director irritably closed the file, and Min Younggi flinched. The director’s gaze was sharp. He had carefully selected Min Younggi, the head of the Special Containment Division, a less important position but still a managerial role, but this had been a mistake on the director’s part.

“That bastard.”

Annoyance clouded the director’s face. As always, these civil servants were all the same.

Yoon Seyeon, the Center Director who had been appointed three years ago, unfortunately had more incompetent than competent people in his organization. He had filtered them out as best he could, but these kinds of people still remained. If Min Younggi hadn’t understood the meaning behind Kwon Yijae’s words, he would have to submit his resignation tomorrow.

This was utter humiliation.

“Did Shin Jeha know? That his Guide is Kwon Yijae?”

“…Yes.”

“I wonder who the lunatic was who divulged that information, hmm?”

“Perhaps… Dr. Lim?”

“Honestly, none of them are in their right minds, huh? Why tell him that!”

The Guide that Shin Jeha had finally found after five years wasn’t even Korean, but British, an influential figure beyond the reach of the Korean government. Moreover, this Guide had perfectly valid reasons to refuse guiding.

Since that fact had been revealed to the patient, there was no way Shin Jeha could be sane. So it was no wonder he was undertaking these absurd daily outings. No one at the Center could deter Shin Jeha’s resolve.

“Director… What should we do about Jeha?”

“You ask me that after causing this mess?”

The director leaned back in his chair, glaring at Min Younggi. Startled, Min Younggi lowered his head.

“What else can we do? Let Shin Jeha do as he pleases. I don’t know what that Kwon Yijae is thinking, but he doesn’t seem disinterested. I thought he was a fox, but he’s more like a viper.”

“…But the military might call to complain… Our relationship with them isn’t good these days, and if that happens…”

“Hey, you idiot.”

Min Younggi’s head snapped up at the director’s chilling words. His eyes, filled with contempt, were fierce.

“Are you a traitor?”

“…Pardon?”

“If your Korean is worse than a British person’s, what else would you be but a traitor? Am I wrong?”

“What do you…”

“Saying he can’t guide because he’s not Korean means he can if he’s not Korean! What’s the difference between that and saying he’ll take Jeha if the Center gives up on him! Did you really not understand, or are you just clueless?”

“What… What do you…”

“You come here and parrot such nonsense without any guts? What, 10 Downing Street? What about the military? So, what are you going to do about it? What are you going to do!”

“…I apologize, Director.”

“Get out if you’re going to spout such rubbish, you incompetent fool!”

The file the director hurled landed in front of Min Younggi. He hastily left the director’s office.

Spread open on the floor, the file clearly showed Shin Jeha’s ID photo in his school uniform. It was Shin Jeha’s profile and activity report, stamped “TOP SECRET” in red on white paper.

The report detailed how the CCTV near the sky garden in the 23rd-floor containment area had malfunctioned for unknown reasons, that Shin Jeha and Kwon Yijae’s movements had overlapped during that time, that Shin Jeha had been found unconscious after Kwon Yijae left, and the speculation that there must have been some form of contact between the two.

“Alright, let’s see what you can do.”

The director was determined to restore Shin Jeha to a healthy state.

Absolutely.

With unprecedented snowfall causing public discontent to skyrocket, the government put intense pressure on the Espers. The National Assembly was on the verge of unanimously passing a law prohibiting strike resolutions for Espers with special civil servant status. The Espers eventually ceased their strike and returned to their original duties.

The snow piled up throughout the city melted rapidly, and the downtown area, anticipating Christmas, was bustling. Espers in police uniforms patrolled the streets, flying around to prevent petty crimes. Seoul quickly forgot the inconvenience of the past few weeks without Espers.

Kwon Yijae, staying long-term in the Presidential Suite of a hotel near Namsan Mountain, commuted as usual to Quantum’s Korean branch at 8 a.m. There was a large bookstore near the branch, so the area was particularly crowded. And among the crowd, Kwon Yijae easily spotted Shin Jeha in his wheelchair.

As expected, he was there again today.

Shin Jeha, in his baggy padding, looked like he was wearing his parents’ clothes. His unkempt hair fluttered messily with every gust of wind. He appeared resolute sitting in his wheelchair, but whenever someone bumped into him lightly, or when the wind blew, he seemed like a buoy adrift without a destination.

Thanks to the Espers clearing the snow, the roads were clear and traffic flowed smoothly. As a result, Kwon Yijae’s car quickly passed by Shin Jeha.

A bodyguard waiting at the entrance to the underground parking lot greeted Kwon Yijae as his car entered.

“Welcome, Director.”

“Check if there are any unnecessary people in the building, and if so, send them out. Once that’s done, bring him up.”

“To the top floor, sir? Won’t we need safety measures?”

“Blake will be coming with me, so there’s no need to worry about that.”

Kwon Yijae added as an afterthought,

“Bring someone who can speak Korean with him.”

“Understood.”

The bodyguards bowed in unison and dispersed in an orderly fashion. Half followed Kwon Yijae, and the other half headed to their assigned areas.

Thirty minutes later, Shin Jeha’s wheelchair arrived in front of the office. On a Saturday with no one else around, it wasn’t secretaries but bodyguards who stood guard in front of Kwon Yijae’s office. The grim-looking bodyguards wore stoic expressions. A bodyguard was also pushing Shin Jeha’s wheelchair.

“I’ll inform you of the precautions. You may address him as Director. Refrain from using the term ‘Guide.’ Although it’s unlikely, you must not make any physical contact with the Director. Any action against the Director’s will is prohibited. I warn you that we may resort to lethal force in the event of any unforeseen circumstances.”

Shin Jeha nodded at the bodyguard’s words. To some, it might have been a threat, but to him, it was easy to agree with. It was natural for a Guide to protect themselves.

“The Director will come when he’s finished with his work. Please wait.”

The tightly closed office door opened, and another bodyguard took over Shin Jeha’s wheelchair. The wheels glided smoothly over the polished marble and stopped in front of a massive desk. The large, circular Quantum logo on the wall was the first thing that caught his eye.

Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the blinds. Shin Jeha, gazing curiously at the stripes etched into the floor, looked around the office like a child on their first outing. The high ceiling was breathtaking, and the metal lights on the ceiling were geometrically designed.

Apart from a single computer, the desk was impeccably clean. The heavy bookshelves were mostly empty, but a few books were lined up on one side. The titles were all in English, which Shin Jeha couldn’t understand.

The bodyguards stationed around the office watched Shin Jeha’s every move. They all seemed to be Espers, each with a weapon at their waist and bulges under their jackets, suggesting they were carrying firearms.

Despite the bodyguards’ vigilance, Shin Jeha remained quiet. Compared to the days and nights he’d spent waiting outside to meet Kwon Yijae, this wasn’t even a wait.

Kwon Yijae’s office was warm, and there was no one to shove him or pass him by. It wasn’t like yesterday, when he had to turn back after countless waits filled with vague hope. Shin Jeha waited patiently, imagining Kwon Yijae working in this office.

Wham!

“Ugh!”

The man, struck by Kwon Yijae’s punch, rolled half a turn and quickly regained his stance. Blake Wilder, his face hit, immediately raised his guard to clear his blurred vision.

Perhaps because it had been a while, Kwon Yijae was a bit more violent than usual today. This wasn’t sparring for survival or exercise; he seemed intent on knocking Blake down.

Cold eyes fixed on Blake, as if hunting him. Trying to regain his senses, Blake wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. A faint streak of blood remained like a brushstroke on his skin. Seeing this, Kwon Yijae lowered his fists.

“Let’s stop here for today.”

“Thank you for your time, Director.”

Blake bowed respectfully. They were both drenched in sweat and disheveled after their lengthy sparring session. He wore an in-ear device to communicate with the bodyguards. Kwon Yijae had also thrown off his clinging gloves.

“Wasn’t I too easy on you?”

“Director, as I always say, there are few in the world who can handle you.”

It was true. Blake Wilder, an Esper, wore piercings that suppressed his abilities when sparring with Kwon Yijae. Even on equal footing, Blake couldn’t imagine himself overpowering Kwon Yijae. Even if Kwon Yijae were his subordinate, it would still be the same.

“Well, if you say so.”

“It seems like something good happened, Director.”

Blake said, stroking his chin. The impact was still stinging. A greenish bruise was surely forming on his skin. Of course, an Esper’s self-healing abilities would quickly erase such minor traces. Both men didn’t mind, as it would be gone by the time Blake left work.

“Sometimes, things don’t go as planned… The problem is, it’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

Kwon Yijae smirked.

“Is that so? I’m glad things are going well for you, Director.”

Blake said, pressing his in-ear device and receiving a report.

“Everything you instructed has been completed. The building is closed except for security personnel. Firewalls are in place on the 31st and 30th floors. What are your orders?”

The 30th floor, connected to the 31st floor where Kwon Yijae was, was completely sealed off from both external and internal access. This level of caution was necessary when meeting an untrustworthy Esper.

“I’ll go after I clean up. You’re coming too, so get ready.”

A slight tension settled over Blake’s face.

“Understood.”

Having finished his morning sparring, Kwon Yijae entered the shower room. He washed off the sweat covering his body and changed into fresh clothes. A thin turtleneck that covered his neck, dark gray slacks, and new leather gloves. His hair was slightly damp, but Kwon Yijae didn’t mind.

He lightly clenched his fist. The leather gloves pulled tight. He had a premonition that something was about to happen. Kwon Yijae clenched and unclenched his hand a few times before finally moving.

“Let’s go.”

It was time to meet Shin Jeha.

Bodyguards stood in line at the entrance to the office. They greeted Kwon Yijae and Blake respectfully as they appeared and immediately opened the door. The boy who had been looking down slowly raised his head. Shin Jeha. His eyes were overly bright.

“I heard you wanted to see me. You’ve been coming here for the past few days.”

Kwon Yijae spoke languidly, perching on the desk next to Shin Jeha’s wheelchair, arms crossed. Unlike the casual tone he’d used before, a cold distance emanated from him. A slight gap separated them. Shin Jeha bowed his head towards Kwon Yijae.

“….”

Then, he slowly raised his head and looked up at Kwon Yijae.

“I believe you said your name was Shin Jeha.”

As Kwon Yijae uttered his name, his deep-set eyes curved slightly. Shin Jeha smiled involuntarily at the fact that Yijae remembered his name. Seeing him slowly nod, Kwon Yijae asked irritably,

“Are you not speaking, or can you not speak?”

Shin Jeha pointed to his throat and made an “X” with his fingers, just as he had before. It seemed the Center’s claim of a dying Esper wasn’t a lie.

“Why did you want to see me if you can’t even speak properly?”

“….”

Shin Jeha seemed to consider for a moment, then mimed writing with his bony fingers on his palm. Watching this, Kwon Yijae clicked his tongue. It seemed he could barely hold a pen with his trembling fingers.

Kwon Yijae flicked his hand slightly. Blake, understanding the signal, stood behind Shin Jeha, one hand gripping his weapon. Shin Jeha, who had been preoccupied with looking around the room, had fixed his gaze on Kwon Yijae from the moment he appeared, oblivious to what was happening behind him.

“How troublesome.”

Kwon Yijae, having removed his left leather glove and placed it on the desk, returned and grabbed Shin Jeha by the nape of his neck.

“—!”

Shin Jeha’s eyes widened in surprise at the intense force. His arms, which had been resting on the wheelchair, flailed in an attempt to escape, but he remembered the bodyguard’s warning. His hands, waving in the air, didn’t dare touch Kwon Yijae.

The Guide, with a bored expression, easily choked Shin Jeha with one hand. It wasn’t guiding, but it was physical contact between an Esper and a Guide. This would be enough of an emergency measure to get him to speak.

Shin Jeha’s wavelengths began to appear, just like that day. Because of the light contact, they were faint and indistinct. As he’d sensed before, his wavelengths were incredibly messy, beyond description.

Kwon Yijae didn’t take his eyes off him. The blood drained completely from his already pale face.

Shin Jeha’s mouth, his airway blocked like a hunted animal, slowly opened, gasping as if about to vomit. Thick knuckles pressed against his Adam’s apple. His pale face turned ashen, and his pupils began to dilate behind his trembling eyelids.

It felt like he could snap Jeha’s neck with just a little more force. The captured neck trembled in his grip. Painful spasms transmitted through Kwon Yijae’s palm. Just as his slowing pulse began to fade, Kwon Yijae nonchalantly released his grip.

“Cough! Hack… Ugh, gasp…”

His airway suddenly cleared. Shin Jeha doubled over, coughing as his lungs filled with air. Watching him intently, Kwon Yijae reached out and put his glove back on.

“You were able to speak with just a brief touch, so that should be enough for a conversation.”

“Gah…”

“It seems like this is your first time being choked. The Center must have pampered you.”

Kwon Yijae’s voice pierced Shin Jeha’s ears as he struggled, bent over in pain from the sudden assault. It was an unbelievably arrogant voice. He was nonchalant after committing such a terrifying act.

Only after his ragged breaths subsided and he could breathe properly did Shin Jeha manage to raise his head and look at Kwon Yijae. The natural smile that had been present since he first saw him was completely gone, and his reddened eyes were moist.

More decadent than I expected. Kwon Yijae appraised the Esper before him according to his own standards.

As his trembling finally subsided, Shin Jeha slowly opened his mouth and made a sound, “Ah.” It was a raspy, broken voice, but once he could make a sound, Shin Jeha began to speak.

“Hello… Director. I’m… Shin… Jeha.”

His voice was halting, as if it was difficult to speak at length.

“I heard your introduction back then.”

“Yes…”

“Why did you want to see me?”

“That…”

He had spent five years thinking about what to say when he met his Guide. All the words he had carefully crafted, pondering how to express himself well. But the moment Kwon Yijae choked him to initiate contact, Shin Jeha forgot everything he wanted to say.

“I wanted… to meet you.”

“Why?”

Because you’re my Guide. That’s obvious. But the bodyguard’s warning not to use the word “Guide” came to mind, so Shin Jeha couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“I just… kept thinking… about you.”

“So, why?”

Kwon Yijae extended a gloved hand and lifted Shin Jeha’s chin with a single finger.

“Don’t tell me, it’s because I’m your Guide?”

Shin Jeha was taken aback by the abrupt question. Didn’t he dislike the term “Guide”? Kwon Yijae immediately provided the answer.

“Did I look like someone who would save you?”

“That’s…”

“Truly strange.”

Shin Jeha’s head dropped as the finger holding his chin was removed.

“Every single Esper is the same. I’m the one who saves them, but no one ever tells me why I should, or explains the reason or necessity.”

“He…”

“Help me, I beg you, save me. If that’s all you have to say, then let’s also discuss why I should do so. Hypocrisy, not bad. Keep in mind that it’s you, not I, who needs it and begs for it.”

Shin Jeha recoiled at Kwon Yijae’s sharp words. He couldn’t utter a word in the face of the man’s overwhelming presence.

But aside from what he’d said, there truly was no other reason. An Esper seeking their Guide was an irresistible force. From the moment he woke up in the hospital bed, Shin Jeha couldn’t think of anything but Kwon Yijae. He was consumed by the desire to meet him. He hadn’t contemplated what would happen between them, whether Yijae would guide him, or any such vague notions. He hadn’t had the time, nor the opportunity.

“Still…”

Shin Jeha spoke with a clearer tone,

“I really wanted to meet you… Director. I always wondered… what kind of person you were. I thought you didn’t exist, and meeting you like this… it must be an incredible coincidence. So, I was really glad, and…”

“Yes, I’m glad to meet you too.”

Unlike Shin Jeha’s long, labored words, Kwon Yijae’s reply was indifferent.

“Director. I’ll be honest with you.”

As Shin Jeha pulled up his sleeve, the bodyguards tensed. Revealed beneath the fabric was a skeletal arm, nothing but skin and bones.

“I am an Esper, but as you can see… I can’t do anything to you… I’m… very sick.”

“And so?”

“Because I’m sick… I don’t know anything. I don’t even know what abilities I have. I don’t know what I’m good at. But, once I recover, once I become an Esper, there’s something I really want to do. That’s why—”

Of course, these were words that didn’t resonate with Kwon Yijae at all.

“Mr. Shin Jeha, I asked you to tell me why I should save you, not why you should live.”

Kwon Yijae checked his wristwatch. Shin Jeha, suddenly afraid that he would be told to leave, quickly spoke,

“If you save me, I will repay your kindness.”

“Repay my kindness…”

“Even I don’t know why you should save me. But, someday, I will become that reason.”

It was a rather bold resolution, a daring confession. Especially considering his current state, barely clinging to life.

Kwon Yijae, one corner of his mouth lifting, said to Shin Jeha,

“Alright. If that’s your reason, Mr. Shin Jeha, now I’ll tell you mine.”

“…Yes.”

“Mr. Shin Jeha, I don’t provide guiding. It’s not that I can’t, I won’t.”

Kwon Yijae spoke to Shin Jeha at eye level, very kindly.

“Guiding you? Well. I’m not sure if that’s possible. First of all, to guide you, sex is a prerequisite.”

Shin Jeha was flustered by the blunt word. Kwon Yijae grabbed his chin. Unlike before, the force was immense, pulling so tight it felt like his neck would snap.

“But first, Mr. Shin Jeha, this is a problem. I don’t want to be a scoundrel who fucks minors. To be precise, I’m not in a position where I should.”

“I’m not a minor! I’m twenty-two this year…”

“But would others think so?”

Shin Jeha was legally an adult, certainly. But if asked if he was an adult by Esper standards, well. No one could give a clear answer.

There had been no reported cases of anyone awakening as an Esper while still a minor in any country. Because of this, Shin Jeha’s very existence had been obscured after his awakening. The illness he developed from lack of guiding served as a convenient excuse.

As a result, Shin Jeha’s official status was that of an Esper requiring a legal guardian, not having been formally recognized.

So it was natural for people to misunderstand based on Shin Jeha’s appearance.

That Shin Jeha might be a minor. That someone with such a young face couldn’t possibly be an Esper.

“I can resolve that. I can explain…”

“The second problem is.”

Kwon Yijae cut Shin Jeha off firmly. Shin Jeha blinked, silenced. Kwon Yijae roughly grabbed Shin Jeha’s hand and placed it on the zipper of his slacks.

“Gasp!”

Shin Jeha, startled, tried to pull his hand away, but to no avail. Kwon Yijae only tightened his grip. Shin Jeha’s hand rubbed against his crotch. He could feel the thick, heavy flesh beneath the smooth fabric, but it was also soft enough to yield to his palm. Shin Jeha wasn’t so foolish as to not understand what the large bulge between his legs was.

“Director… Wh-what is… this…”

Flustered, Shin Jeha looked up at Kwon Yijae, bewildered. At that moment, he thought he saw a cruel glint in Yijae’s eyes.

“Hold the wheelchair.”

Blake, as if waiting for the command, gripped the handles of the wheelchair tightly, holding it in place. Kwon Yijae raised his right hand and slapped Shin Jeha across the face.

Slap!

“Ah!”

Shin Jeha’s head snapped to the left in excruciating pain. The impact was so great that his head spun, and he couldn’t think straight.

What… what is this…

Slap!

The large hand that had viciously struck his right cheek now backhanded his left. His lip split like it had been cut with a knife, and the impact against his sunken cheekbone sent a jolt of pain through him. This blow was far harder than the previous one.

The burning sensation on both cheeks, the surging pain, his mind going hazy. Shin Jeha groaned, the pain hitting him belatedly.

“Ugh… uh…”

“Do you feel it?”

Shin Jeha didn’t understand what Kwon Yijae’s chilling words meant. He had even forgotten that his hand was still gripped by Yijae’s. Kwon Yijae pressed down, rubbing Shin Jeha’s much smaller hand against his erection.

His decadent eyes, filled with a mixture of confusion, pain, and bewilderment, widened as his face paled. A large hand cupped his reddened cheek. He could feel the heat even through the smooth leather glove. Kwon Yijae stroked his cheek with his thumb as if checking something, then slapped him again.

“Ah!”

“Do you still not understand?”

Kwon Yijae released his hand. Shin Jeha’s hand, which had been pressing against his groin, slid limply through the air and landed on his thigh. Grabbing a fistful of Shin Jeha’s hair, Kwon Yijae forced his face to the center.

His palm and the back of his hand alternately struck Shin Jeha’s cheeks. Shin Jeha’s limp body swayed with each movement of Kwon Yijae’s hand. Every time he tried to slump out of the wheelchair, Kwon Yijae tightened his grip on his hair, as if about to rip it out, and pulled him back into place. And then, it started all over again.

Slap, slap! Slap!

“Ahhh!”

Screams mixed with cries echoed ceaselessly through the office. Each merciless slap from those cold, blue eyes sent tremors through the wheelchair. Blake pressed down on the wheelchair with his foot, immobilizing it. He was facilitating Kwon Yijae’s assault on Shin Jeha.

The eyes of everyone in Kwon Yijae’s office were fixed on Shin Jeha. Despite the sudden violence, no one seemed surprised or intervened.

“Gasp… sob… ah! Ugh!”

Physiological tears streamed from Shin Jeha’s reddened eyes. Every time a gloved hand came down on his tear-streaked face, it felt like his skin was being ripped apart. This was a different kind of pain than Shin Jeha had ever experienced. Raw pain, this was blatant violence.

Unconsciously, Shin Jeha gripped the arms of his wheelchair. Something seemed to be stirring within him. He hadn’t intentionally tried to use his abilities. It wasn’t just Espers present. Moreover, the person assaulting him was his Guide, someone whose abilities he absolutely shouldn’t use against.

Despite this, his survival instincts as an Esper betrayed his will. His wavelengths began to fluctuate erratically with each of Kwon Yijae’s heavy blows.

A smirk played on the lips of the man wielding the relentless violence.

Look at this, he’s an Esper after all.

Kwon Yijae laughed cruelly, tightening his grip on Shin Jeha’s hair, pulling it taut, and then striking down hard from above. This grip was different from before.

Slap!

“Aaargh!”

The inside of his mouth erupted. Blood flowed from Shin Jeha’s lips. His body, unable to withstand the beating, slid limply down the wheelchair. Kwon Yijae grabbed his hair and yanked him back up. Shin Jeha cowered, trembling, anticipating the next blow.

But the blow didn’t come.

The man who had wielded the violence was like a massive disaster. What had struck Shin Jeha, and what had vanished just as quickly at Kwon Yijae’s will, was an irresistible calamity. Shin Jeha was utterly powerless against it. There was nothing he could do in the face of such a disaster. Kwon Yijae simply stared at him with indifferent eyes.

“Sob, sniff…”

The young Esper, who had endured the inexplicable violence, belatedly began to weep.

“Ha…”

The perpetrator, however, merely exhaled deeply, calming his vaguely aroused excitement.

Kwon Yijae looked down at Shin Jeha with arrogant eyes. He had only been slapped a few times, yet he was sobbing uncontrollably, unable to control his trembling shoulders. It was the image of someone barely enduring the pain of an unfamiliar violence. The sight of someone so clearly untouched was rather pleasing.

Kwon Yijae kindly took Shin Jeha’s hand again and placed it on his groin. Intertwining their fingers, he pressed down hard.

The moment Shin Jeha’s gloved fingers were forced to grip the large shaft, he instinctively understood what was happening.

Kwon Yijae’s head tilted back slightly, his eyes half-closed.

“Haa…”

It was a low, husky sound he hadn’t heard before.

Kwon Yijae’s penis, which he could feel beneath his palm, was now much more swollen and hard than before. It wasn’t fully erect, too large to grasp with one hand, but it was clearly different from before.

Shin Jeha was a man too. He knew exactly what this meant. What had aroused Kwon Yijae, what had made him this excited, was the sharp, unprovoked violence.

“Do you understand now? Why I don’t guide anyone.”

A dry, seemingly dissatisfied voice penetrated Shin Jeha’s ears. Shin Jeha, who had been forced to hold his penis, came to his senses belatedly and tried to pull his hand away. Sensing the squirming movement in his palm, Kwon Yijae calmly let go of Shin Jeha’s hand.

Unable to hide his flustered expression, Shin Jeha quickly withdrew his hand. His limp hand trembled uncontrollably. He tried to hide it with his other hand, pressing it against his thigh, but Kwon Yijae saw everything.

“Even though my sexual preferences are peculiar, they’re not unusual. There are plenty of Espers with even more fucked up tastes. There’s no reason for this. It just is. Just like you were born an Esper and I became a Guide. So it’s not something you can overcome with effort.”

“…”

“To put it bluntly, since you don’t seem to understand, I need to get hard to fuck or guide. And as you’ve experienced firsthand, Mr. Shin Jeha, it’s difficult to get fully erect with just this much.”

Kwon Yijae smirked and tapped Shin Jeha’s flushed cheeks with the back of his hand. Chills ran down Shin Jeha’s spine.

Kwon Yijae’s gaze was fixed on his bruised cheek. It seemed like he was itching to slap him again. His openly dissatisfied expression was evidence of suppressed arousal and his raw, violent nature.

“I’m not saying there haven’t been Espers who came to me for guiding. But why do you think I don’t guide anyone now? I don’t know if you came to me because you don’t want to be in pain anymore, but well. I’d be troubled if you weren’t in pain, Mr. Shin Jeha.”

Despite his dazed mind from the aftereffects of the pain, Shin Jeha tried to think.

So, that’s why…

“So, let’s end this here. Let’s consider the trouble you’ve caused me so far settled. Oh, one more thing. It seems the Center has pampered and protected you because you’re young and sick, but learn that such things don’t work in the outside world. Do you understand?”

Kwon Yijae, having retrieved and put on his discarded glove, gripped Shin Jeha’s trembling shoulder tightly before letting go. Turning, he ordered Blake,

“He’s understood enough by now, so he won’t bother me from tomorrow onwards. Have someone escort him back to the Center.”

“Yes, Director.”

Blake took hold of Shin Jeha’s wheelchair and moved towards the exit. His slumped figure being wheeled out looked pathetic. Subdued by the violence, he couldn’t even plead to wait a moment longer. However, a strange fascination lingered in Kwon Yijae’s eyes.

His gloved hand clenched into a fist, then relaxed.

Violence without explanation, an Esper unable to resist.

Kwon Yijae’s inherent nature seethed with excessive violence, an excitement that couldn’t be quenched for any reason.

It was perfectly calculated, even though he hadn’t planned it. Would Shin Jeha return, or not?

Kwon Yijae whispered, ensuring Shin Jeha couldn’t hear,

I hope you open that door and appear before me again.

Only then would Kwon Yijae’s answer not be wrong.