MCLE | Chapter 1

The sound of footsteps echoed noisily through the underground corridor. The men walked at a brisk pace. A man dressed in a sharp black suit had an anxious expression as he held a smartphone to his ear, continuously exchanging words with someone. A frantic voice burst from the other side of the phone.

[He’s long past Rampage Stage 3! He’s at 89% now!]

The man in the black suit, Esper Special Management Bureau Director Elijah, let out a scream. His steps quickened even more.

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The man following behind him, dressed in a gray suit, curled his lips into a smirk, leisurely keeping pace with Elijah. His dark gray hair was slicked back smoothly, giving him the appearance of a polished businessman. Thin, faint double eyelids, sharp eyes that stretched out to the sides. Yes, those eyes. Those deep gray eyes, carrying an odd sense of composure.

His demeanor was just a beat off from Elijah’s urgency. Whether Elijah noticed or not, he spoke to the man in a frantic tone.

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“From now on, this is a real emergency. If this underground bunker explodes and collapses, burying us alive, we’ll have no right to complain!”

“Well, I doubt the bad weather is our fault.”

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The delayed flight due to worsening weather was simply a natural disaster—something humans couldn’t control. Or maybe that was an outdated notion now. The man in the gray suit glanced ahead at the large door in the distance. It was built as sturdy as a bank vault, and it was now swinging open in haste.

“Is it common for government institutions to let outsiders waltz in like this?”

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“This is not the time for that kind of talk!”

Elijah shouted as he leaped through the one-meter-thick steel door without hesitation. At that moment, both his smartphone and a voice from inside the room erupted at the same time.

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[Director Elijah, it’s at 94%!]

“Theobald!”

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“Calling my name so recklessly just because you’re in a hurry.”

Hexion Theobald, neatly dressed in his gray suit, strolled unhurriedly into the underground laboratory with a towering two-story-high ceiling. Around ten researchers were dashing around like mad, their white lab coats fluttering like paper planes. Hexion effortlessly avoided a researcher who nearly crashed into him and set his gaze toward the center of the lab.

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All the researchers were desperately trying to calm down the man restrained on the central experiment table.

“Sedatives!”

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“We’ve used up all the sedatives!”

Hexion glanced beside the experiment table. Dozens of empty vials, which once contained sedatives, were scattered around like discarded liquor bottles. Ah, those. A normal person would be dead by now. Hexion sidestepped the frantic researchers and walked forward in a straight, purposeful line. His posture was rigid, his back and shoulders squared, giving off an unshakable presence. Despite his broad shoulders, his waist and hips were narrow, accentuated by a sleek black leather belt strapped around them. The H-brand logo gleamed in silver, completely out of place in this situation.

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Hexion placed a hand on the researcher who was still trying to squeeze out the last drops of non-existent sedatives and gently pushed him aside. Then, he looked down at the man lying on the experiment table. Thud. Even though it was just a light push, the researcher collapsed like a brittle twig. Slumped on the floor, he stared at the dozens of graphs and percentages displayed on the screen above the experiment table, murmuring in despair.

“Rampage Stage… 98%.”

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We’re all doomed. Someone shouted that.

Hexion Theobald chuckled at the words. For people tasked with saving the world from disaster, they sure gave up quickly.

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The man on the experiment table had warm brown hair. His eye color… hmm. It was hard to tell because his eyes were covered. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the tendons in his neck were bulging. His gums were probably already torn up, as blood mixed with saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth. His entire body, wrapped in a restraint suit, was struggling violently.

Haaak, guk. Kugh.

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The brown-haired man kept letting out pained gasps.

Crack, guk.

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The specially designed restraints securing him to the experiment table started snapping apart. The underground laboratory trembled with a deafening rumble. It was as if an earthquake had struck the underground base, buried deep below the surface. Researchers fell to the floor, and Elijah screamed in panic.

Hexion, who had been thrown slightly off balance by the shaking ground, pressed his hand against the experiment table and looked down at the brown-haired man.

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Elijah’s urgent voice rang out.

“You have to start guiding right now!”

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“Tsk.”

Hexion let out a small laugh, as if pitying them.

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“I have to kiss him without even knowing his eye color?”

Wasn’t this meeting way too rushed? At Hexion’s murmur, Elijah shouted. “This is not the time for that! The world could end! A catastrophe is coming!”

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Hexion slowly leaned down, pressing his lips against the torn, bloodied lips of the man beneath him. The brown-haired man’s mouth was a mess, saliva and blood dripping freely as he let out strained, pained groans. It seemed he had bitten his tongue as well, because the taste of blood was thick. Hexion pried his lips open, pushing his tongue inside, letting it slowly drag against the blood coating his own. His tongue traced the hollow dip in the center, then slid up to the rough ridges of the roof of his mouth.

A sharp inhale.

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Good.

Hexion could feel the other’s tongue slowly clinging to his movements. That blood-soaked, trembling flesh pressed against his own.

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Haa, huk.

Was this really a kiss? Or was he simply keeping his mouth open in agony?

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The man’s lips, parted as if spilling out every ounce of his pain, were something Hexion had to chase and soothe. The wildly convulsing body finally began to settle.

Chlck, slurp.

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As Hexion sucked on the other’s tongue, another mouthful of blood slid down his throat.

“I-It’s dropping! Rampage Stage… 94%, 82%, 71%…”

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Hexion lifted his hand and gently stroked the brown-haired man’s cheek. His fingertips brushed against his skin, trailing down his jawline, then resting with his palm pressed against his cheek. The percentage numbers dropped rapidly.

All the while, Hexion kept his gaze locked on the blindfold covering the man’s eyes. His pupils were steadily contracting.

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“R-Rampage Stage 1… Ah, he’s stabilizing!”

A researcher shouted at Elijah.

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Elijah collapsed onto the floor, clasping his hands together in prayer.

Hexion pulled away from the kiss. His lips and the area around his mouth were soaked with blood and saliva. He wiped it away with the back of his hand before throwing Elijah a mocking smirk.

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“I was the one who solved this. And yet, you turn to God?”

“Shut up. If you hadn’t wasted time, we could have sighed in relief one second sooner!”

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“Oh dear. If you disliked my ways, you should have brought someone else.”

“You! There is no one else but you! No one!”

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Hexion half-listened to Elijah’s outburst as he perched on the edge of the experiment table. He reached forward and removed the blindfold from the brown-haired man’s eyes.

But—his eyelids remained closed. No eye color was revealed.

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“So, what’s my matching rate with this guy?”

Elijah cleared his throat before answering.

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“82%. The highest recorded.”

“82%, huh. That’s an awkward number.”

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“Are you seriously saying that when every other guide barely scored in the single digits with this esper?”

“Hmm. It doesn’t quite feel like a world’s only kind of number, does it?”

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Hexion responded in a flat tone, still gazing down at the brown-haired man. Elijah continued to ramble on about something, but Hexion paid him no mind. He was far more curious about what color this man’s eyes would be. It was also a clear sign that he had no interest in whatever Elijah was saying.

“What’s his name?”

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“Elijah…”

“Not you.”

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“Ah.”

Elijah answered indifferently.

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“Initial-stage espers don’t get names.”

“That sounds incredibly discriminatory.”

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“09. Zero Nine. He’s the ninth esper to be discovered.”

“Zero Nine, huh.”

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Hexion swept back a few strands of brown hair.

“I like it.”

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As he said that, he moved to pull his hand away—Or at least, he tried to.

A hand with bulging blue veins suddenly grabbed his wrist. Hexion glanced down at the firm grip on his wrist before slowly shifting his gaze upward.

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Brown hair lay messily over his forehead. Then—

His eyelids lifted.

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Hexion’s deep gray pupils contracted sharply.

Zero Nine had fully opened his eyes.

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“Ah…”

Eyes that no human should ever possess.

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A soft lavender glow filled his irises as he stared blankly up at Hexion.

Zero Nine clutched Hexion’s wrist as if it were a lifeline—gentle yet unyielding. His lips parted slowly.

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”…Somehow, this feels incredibly good.”