Chapter 2
Lim Ji-seo was not easily surprised. If trouble arose but remained manageable, she faced it calmly, spending her days without highs or lows.
She claimed it was because of her realistic personality, but those around her had a different view.
As her mother, Hyun Song-hyun, once put it:
“This daughter of mine is like a rock—calm in everything, steady as a boulder.”
And according to Kim Jin-won, Ji-seo’s trainer for the past six months, she was “C-Rank, but with the heart of an S-Rank.” That was how people described her.
It was precisely here that C-Rank Esper Ji-seo’s strength lay.
No matter the situation, she remained composed, responding calmly and appropriately. Perhaps due to her naturally even-tempered personality, she exhibited a strange stability, never letting her power gauge spiral out of control.
Thanks to this, Ji-seo, who had longed for a stable, secure life, could enjoy an equally stable life as an Esper.
Of course, the reality that her salary was far higher than that of a typical Grade-7 civil servant, thanks to hazard pay, blurred the definition of “stability” a little.
But C-Rank Espers were only ever assigned to maximum B-Rank Gates. B-Rank didn’t guarantee absolute safety, but with her cryokinetic defenses, countless field experiences, and cool-headed judgment, Ji-seo had become a seasoned veteran, essentially indistinguishable from an ordinary office worker who had grown tired of commuting.
Not every awakened individual was S- or A-Rank, nor was every Gate S-Rank. Lower-rank Gates naturally required lower-rank Espers. Ji-seo was on one of these teams—the Blue 2 Team—standing on the brink of becoming team leader. If she achieved this within the year, she would be the fastest-promoted Esper in the history of the Awakened Management Bureau, and no one would doubt it.
At headquarters, the consensus was clear: “Even if she gets involved in an S-Rank Gate incident, she won’t flinch.”
“Uh.”
Ji-seo sat in the driver’s seat, staring at the car she had just collided with, letting out a soft, stunned exclamation.
She was startled because she had never even caused a minor door-ding before—yet here she was in a traffic accident.
She had been driving home after finishing her shift at headquarters. Approaching the road, she saw the car in front stop and thought she had braked—but somehow, she had pressed the accelerator instead. Her car surged forward with a thud, striking the vehicle ahead. After seven years of confident driving, this was Ji-seo’s first self-caused collision. That alone was enough to make her uneasy.
“I’m screwed…”
To make matters worse, the car she hit was a Bugatti Veyron. Even someone like Ji-seo could not help but be shocked. And the person stepping out of that car added to the calamity.
Anyone with even a passing interest in cars would instantly recognize: This is a car you don’t touch.
The man got out, massaging the back of his neck with exaggerated flair. Ji-seo wasn’t particularly short, but even so, she marveled at how someone of that height could fit into such a low-profile hypercar.
…Of course, Ji-seo’s primary curiosity was the price of that futuristic sports car.
“Nice to see you again, Lim Ji-seo. I hoped we wouldn’t meet like this.”
“Vice President, are you unharmed?”
“Yes, as you can see… though the car is another story.”
Standing confidently with arms crossed before the mangled rear bumper, the man smiled at Ji-seo. He looked like he belonged in a celebrity magazine—so attractive it almost hurt to look at. But Ji-seo barely noticed.
Baek Do-hyuk, Vice President of LS Innotech, glanced at the dented bumper, then playfully gave her a teasing smile.
People passing by whispered, staring at the scene. Anyone would see it: a man seemingly sculpted from light, an unrealistically designed supercar, and a clearly guilty office worker with her outdated car.
Ji-seo quickly handed over her business card, bowing deeply.
“I’m sorry. I was careless. Shall I call the insurance company for you?”
“Lim Ji-seo, what’s your coverage limit?”
Instead of taking her card, Baek Do-hyuk asked. Ji-seo recalled quickly:
“Three hundred million won.”
“One tire on that car costs fifty million won.”
“Eh?”
Although she had heard him clearly, Ji-seo asked again, unable to believe it. Seeing the amount come from the owner herself, she realized the gravity of the situation—her heart sank harder than when she first faced a monster in field training.
Baek Do-hyuk took the card politely but slipped it into his jacket pocket, out of reach of her frozen hand.
“No need for the insurance company.”
“Ah, must you leave immediately?”
Well, she guessed he must be an extremely busy man. She took some photos of the scene, hoping it would help, despite having a dashcam. Her mood was heavy.
“You can leave first. I’ll contact the insurance company myself.”
Even as she said goodbye, Ji-seo ran numbers in her head. Repairing this car in Korea would likely be impossible. It would need to be sent to the country of manufacture, they’d require a replacement in the meantime…
She couldn’t even estimate how many zeros to type into a calculator.
Thinking of her bank balance, Ji-seo realized she had savings aside from daily expenses and money she gave her parents. Yet this wasn’t just a delay on buying a house—it was potentially mortgaging her entire life.
“Can someone even drive such a hyper-expensive car on public roads without consequences?”
Ironically, the owner, whose car had just delayed Ji-seo’s homeownership plans by three years—or thirty—was now effectively holding her life as collateral. She had refused such a proposal in under twenty minutes, yet now it seemed her life was truly at stake. On her way home, she replayed the chaotic events of just half an hour.
Today had started normally. No dispatch calls, a few paperwork tasks, personal training, and she planned to leave slightly early. Until the headquarters chief summoned her 15 minutes before leaving, it was an ordinary day.
Seeing the call notification on her wrist device, she sighed lightly. A colleague speculated it might be a hint about the team leader position.
“Not likely.”
Ji-seo had no ambition for the role. She just wanted a long, steady life, believing civil service was her best bet. Oblivious to the storm ahead, she opened the chief’s office door lightly. Had she known, she would have pretended her device malfunctioned and run.
Then she wouldn’t have encountered the Bugatti disaster—or the man behind it—and her day would have ended peacefully.
“Ah, Lim Ji-seo, good to see you. Come, sit here.”
The chief smiled warmly, gesturing to the sofa on his right. On the left sat a visitor.
Ji-seo, puzzled, greeted the chief and the young man opposite her, then sat. The chief, in his early forties, was quite power-driven but appreciated Ji-seo’s exceptional competence. Among Espers constantly causing incidents, she stood out for her diligence and composure, making her a valuable asset.
Yet soon, Ji-seo realized she had made a grave miscalculation.
