FG | Chapter 1.4

There were plenty more marks on my body. My waist, where he had grabbed me, was even worse—practically black and blue. If this was filed as a workplace injury, he knew exactly who would end up in trouble.

But the bureaucrat didn’t even blink.

“I think I’ve seen enough.”

His sarcastic sneer nearly made me snap, but then I noticed something strange.

His gaze had shifted to my neck.

‘Why is he suddenly looking at my neck…?’

Then it hit me—Yeo Eundo had bitten me there.

And at that moment, I realized why none of my arguments were working.

This bastard thought I had skipped work and spent my time rolling around in bed instead of guiding.

‘No wonder he’s been treating me like a total disaster case!’

I was about to lose my mind from the sheer injustice of it all.

“N-no, this isn’t—!”

I tried to explain, but the bureaucrat cut me off with an even stricter smile.

“If this is a work-related injury, you’ll need to provide evidence proving causality. You, of all people, should know that.”

The causality in question was tied to Yeo Eundo’s guiding.

I wasn’t even getting any compensation, and now I had to go back and write that damn incident report. My frustration boiled over, but as a mere D-class Guide, I didn’t even have the power to file a formal complaint.

Anger and helplessness surged through me, but there was no one to vent to. I was already resigning myself to my fate when he unexpectedly made a proposal.

“If you’d prefer, you can resolve this by taking one month of field duty instead of submitting the report.”

I frowned, looking at him in disbelief.

Didn’t I have any professional pride as an office worker? How could he casually tell me to do fieldwork for an entire month?

Grabbing both his hands, I said, “Two months is fine, actually.”

The reason I was frowning wasn’t out of protest—it was to hold back the tears of joy threatening to spill.

Adjusting guiding sessions was a hassle, but anything was better than an incident report leading to disciplinary action.

The bureaucrat pulled his hands away, his face twisting in displeasure.

“A month is enough. Esper Yeo Eundo won’t be resting any longer than that, after all.”

I had assumed I’d be sent out to guide C-class Espers and assist higher-level Guides. But out of nowhere, he brought up Yeo Eundo.

Confused, I furrowed my brows, and the bureaucrat let out a sigh, looking mildly annoyed.

“During Esper Yeo Eundo’s one-month hospitalization, you’ll be monitoring his progress. Here’s the manual.”

He gestured at the tablet in his hand, silently urging me to take it.

»જ⁀➴

As I stood in front of the Awakener Specialized Hospital, practically dragged here against my will, I couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

“Of all people… why him?”

Monitoring. Yeah, I could do that. But out of all the Espers out there, why did it have to be Yeo Eundo?

He probably wouldn’t remember anything from his rampage, but that didn’t stop me from worrying. Before stepping inside, I glanced at my reflection in the glass.

Would there be anything about me that could trigger his memory?

Awakeners, regardless of race, had a wide range of hair and eye colors, determined by their traits.

I had black hair and purple eyes. Not that it mattered much—since I always wore glasses, my eye color wasn’t even that noticeable unless I was guiding. Objectively speaking, there was nothing particularly striking about my appearance.

No one had ever remembered my eyes before. Yeo Eundo wouldn’t either.

After all, I’m just a D-class Guide, someone who doesn’t stand out—and doesn’t need to.

My uniform was spotless, not a single wrinkle in sight. I double-checked everything one last time before stepping inside. Yeo Eundo was in a VIP suite on the 8th floor.

While waiting for the elevator, I noticed a news broadcast playing on a nearby monitor. It was covering Yeo Eundo’s recent rampage from a few days ago.

The damages alone amounted to 70 billion won, but thankfully, there were no casualties. The broadcast credited S-class Guide Seon Jiyeol for arriving just in time and miraculously guiding Yeo Eundo back to stability.

I was watching absentmindedly when the elevator finally arrived. I stepped in, along with three other people.

One of them looked very familiar.

No, not just familiar. Unforgettable. After all, I had just seen him a few days ago.

Light brown hair, green eyes. A man who, despite being male, had delicate features and a petite frame—almost doll-like.

It was S-class Guide Seon Jiyeol.

A bodyguard stood beside him. I instinctively moved to the corner.

For some reason, I’ve been running into S-classes way too often this year.

Seon Jiyeol noticed that the 8th floor was already pressed and turned toward me.

‘Don’t talk to me. Don’t talk to me.’

Despite my silent plea, he fully turned to face me and asked,

“Are you heading to Esper Yeo Eundo?”

‘Damn it.’

I masked my displeasure and answered as neutrally as possible.

“Yes.”

“Which department are you from?”

“I’m from the Center.”

“The Center? Which division?”

I didn’t like this. It felt like I was being interrogated. Even if he was Yeo Eundo’s assigned Guide, he had no right to pry into my affiliation.

I really didn’t want to answer, but picking a fight with an S-class was not on my to-do list.

“I’m from the Planning and Coordination Office, Information and Statistics Division. I’ll be monitoring Esper Yeo Eundo for the next month.”

Seon Jiyeol frowned, clearly unimpressed. Then, with a cold expression, he muttered,

“Pointless.”

Right then, the elevator dinged, announcing our arrival on the 8th floor. Seon Jiyeol strode out without another word.

‘Damn, he’s got a temper.’

Well, with his rank, I guess he had every right to be a bit prickly.

I reached Yeo Eundo’s hospital room. Before stepping inside, I reviewed the monitoring documents one last time.

It was emphasized that all reports should be based on objective facts.

The format was different from what I was used to.

For example, if the subject drank water at 3 PM, instead of writing [PM 3:00 – Water intake: 500mL], I was supposed to write [At 3 PM, the subject drank 500mL of Evia*].

Weirdly specific.

It seemed like they wanted the report to be even more straightforward and detailed. But some of the categories made no sense to me.

‘AD Level and baseline vitality should already be in the medical records… but what’s this mental check? Does it mean mood tracking? And why do I have to write such a detailed visitor log?’

Since when did monitoring turn into stalking?

As I was internally freaking out over the monitoring checklist and its ridiculous level of detail, Seon Jiyeol entered the hospital room.

I was about to follow when his bodyguards stepped in front of me, blocking the way.

Already irritated by how complicated this job was turning out to be, I didn’t exactly respond in the most polite manner.

“What is this?”

“I will handle the monitoring. You may leave.”

I had directed my question at the bodyguards, but it was Seon Jiyeol who answered.

I should have been thrilled that he was willing to take over my work. But thanks to my ever-growing frustration with this whole assignment, I wasn’t in the mood to feel grateful.

“That’s not happening.”

“…What?”

My flat rejection seemed to catch Seon Jiyeol off guard. Probably because he wasn’t used to being refused.

Not that I cared.

I explained the situation clearly.

“Monitoring is my assignment. If you want to change that, you’ll have to contact the Center directly.”

Not that he’d have time for that, considering he was an S-class Guide who was probably drowning in work.

“……”

He stared me down, clearly trying to pressure me into backing off. But nice try—I wasn’t that easy to intimidate.

I turned to the bodyguards blocking my way and said,

“Step aside.”

They didn’t budge.

One of them even reached out, as if to push me back—which prompted my next words.

“The moment you lay a hand on me, I’ll report you for obstructing an official duty.”

That did the trick. The bodyguard hesitated, looking over at Seon Jiyeol for instructions.

The Guide Center took obstruction very seriously. If an Esper went into a rampage because their guiding was interrupted, the Center and the government would be responsible for all the damages.

Sure, Seon Jiyeol himself wouldn’t be affected, but these bodyguards? They’d be facing disciplinary action.

And he knew it, too.

With an irritated flick of his fingers, he signaled for them to stand down. His glare, however, remained fixed on me, sharp enough to cut glass.

I ignored the hostility and walked into the room.

He watched me, but he didn’t stop me.

Not my problem. There was nothing he could do about it.

I shifted my focus to Yeo Eundo, who was lying on the hospital bed, looking completely lifeless.

If he could just stay like this for the entire month I had to monitor him, that would be perfect.

Just as I was thinking that, Seon Jiyeol approached him.

Then, he reached out… and touched Yeo Eundo’s cheek.

‘…Huh?’

And the way he looked at him—so heartachingly tender—anyone watching would immediately assume they were lovers.

Just like the rumors said.

So, they really are a couple?

That’s none of my business. But what is my business is figuring out… how the hell I’m supposed to report this.

The monitoring logs required detailed visitor records and their interactions with the subject.

‘I’m not a damn voyeur.’

»જ⁀➴

[Guide Seon Jiyeol touched the cheek of the sleeping Esper Yeo Eundo.]

‘Ugh…’

I wrote it down because I had to, but I couldn’t help but feel grossed out.

While Seon Jiyeol was still touching Yeo Eundo’s face, the hospital medical staff entered the room.

“Guide Seon Jiyeol, you’re here to check on Esper Yeo Eundo again today.”

Apparently, he had been visiting frequently—long before I was even assigned as Yeo Eundo’s monitoring officer.

Seon Jiyeol replied, “Yes, I couldn’t help but worry.”

“Haha, no need to stress about guiding overload. You managed the process exceptionally well.”

“……”

Seon Jiyeol gave a tight-lipped smile—one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“The fact that an Esper’s AD Level dropped to zero is completely unprecedented, so we’ll need to monitor him for a while longer. But he should wake up soon.”

The doctor then asked, “Have you given any more thought to the grade reassessment we discussed?”

“I’ll consider it once Esper Yeo Eundo wakes up.”

“With the level of guiding you performed, it’s amazing how stable your numbers remained. It’s far from ordinary. Who knows? You might even become the first-ever L-class Guide.”

Hearing the term L-class made my heart skip a beat, but since no one suspected me, I just played dumb.

Seon Jiyeol simply smiled—and with that, the doctor left the room.

‘Damn. I was going to ask for the medical records.’

But the doctor completely ignored me, and I missed my chance. I’d have to ask later.

Just as I was considering that, a sudden grinding noise filled the room.

‘Uh… what?’

I glanced over and froze.

Seon Jiyeol’s face was terrifying.

He was gritting his teeth, his jaw so tight it looked like he might break his own molars. His expression was absolutely murderous—like a rabid dog ready to bite the first thing that moved.

Then, in a low, ominous voice, he muttered, “…Who the hell…?”

It’s not the strong dogs you have to be careful of.

It’s the ones that have completely lost it.

I did the only reasonable thing—I shrunk into a corner and made myself as invisible as possible.