Chapter 5
While Ji-seo was scrolling through search results about an outrageously expensive car and sighing quietly, her older sister Yeon-seo glanced over, then rolled across the floor and plopped her head down on Ji-seo’s thigh.
“Why? Our Esper Lim buying a car like that?”
“As if. I don’t have that kind of money. You’d need to be at least S-Rank to drive something like that.”
Ji-seo silently scrolled through the webpage, which went on and on about how incredible the car was—how extraordinary, how rare, how unbelievably expensive—before cautiously opening her mouth.
“…Unni. Hypothetically. If you were driving and crashed into a car like this. And it was your fault. …What would you do?”
Yeon-seo shot upright and stared down at Ji-seo without a word.
Her gaze was so serious that Ji-seo flinched without realizing it. Though she was her sister, Yeon-seo had always been frighteningly sharp. From childhood, she could read situations instantly. For a moment, Ji-seo thought she’d figured out that this “hypothetical” was actually real.
But Yeon-seo’s reaction went in a completely different direction.
“Is it night? In the countryside?”
“Huh? No. Broad daylight. Downtown.”
“Then you’re dead. Nothing you can do. If it were some remote backwater with no CCTV, maybe you could kill the owner and try to cover it up.”
After casually dropping that horrifying suggestion, Yeon-seo flopped back down.
So she really had stuffed all her knowledge into her head and expelled her humanity somewhere else. As the pinnacle of human trash lay sprawled on the floor, Ji-seo sluggishly pushed herself up.
Yeon-seo, who had been quietly watching her unusually low-energy sister, called out toward Ji-seo’s back.
“Hey. Ramen. Don’t beat the egg—just half-cook it.”
Was asking for comfort too much to hope for?
“…Aren’t you going to the hospital?”
“I’ll go when it’s time. Damn it, you distracted me and I lost count. Why are you even imagining crashing into a car you’ll never see in your life? You bored?”
Grumbling, Yeon-seo added to her order.
“Mom’s green onion kimchi was really good. Bring that too!”
Looks like she wanted frozen ramen tonight.
Ji-seo filled a pot with water.
‘Counting ceiling patterns is pointless. This is a real problem I’m dealing with.’
Pouting internally, she still took out the cubed radish kimchi and the green onion kimchi. No matter how easily she could kill house-sized monsters without blinking, Lim Ji-seo ranked dead last in this household.
First place: Madam Hyun Song-hyun.
Second: Divine Doctor Lim Yeon-seo.
Third and fourth places used to fluctuate, but since Korea still respected seniority, Ji-seo had generously ceded third place to her father.
Which left her firmly in fourth.
‘If this ever gets exposed, I’ll be at the bottom forever.’
With a heavy heart, Ji-seo tore open the ramen packet. The bubbling water felt exactly like her state of mind.
[Looks like we’ll meet again, Lim Ji-seo.]
[Tomorrow at 7 p.m.]
Baek Do-hyuk’s message came quickly.
That same evening—the day she gave him her number—she received a short greeting, followed by the date, time, and location.
It was an unfamiliar number, but the message alone made it obvious who it was from.
The location was also unfamiliar. A quick search showed it was near headquarters.
Did they really need to meet in person? That thought crossed her mind—but since she had committed a sin, she replied that she understood and went to bed early.
Whether it was bad luck or good, there was no dispatch the next day.
It was good that she wouldn’t be late for her appointment with her “creditor,” but unfortunate that she’d be meeting Baek Do-hyuk looking perfectly fine.
Wouldn’t it have been better to show up looking exhausted and pale right after a mission? Maybe she could’ve earned some pity points.
She shook off the thought.
The water was already spilled. Insurance would cover part of it, she’d empty her savings for the rest, and if that still wasn’t enough…
She’d just have to work harder.
At this rate, she might as well become a soccer ball, but still—she had a guaranteed job. Murmuring “Still a guaranteed job” like a spell, Ji-seo entered the meeting place.
As soon as she stepped inside, a staff member emerged from the long hallway and bowed deeply.
“Allow me to escort you, Ms. Lim Ji-seo.”
Before Ji-seo could say anything, the employee led the way.
‘Just how much pressure are they trying to put on me, calling me to a place like this?’
Walking down the hallway felt like entering an unconfirmed Gate.
The hall she was guided into was, unsurprisingly, stunning.
Soft music flowed beneath a ceiling reminiscent of a grand cathedral—modern yet classical, simple yet extravagant. Ji-seo couldn’t even find the words to describe it.
The wide-open Han River view, however, she genuinely liked.
Passing several atmosphere-rich tables where couples—or people who looked very much like couples—sat facing each other and chatting quietly, she was led into a private room.
Baek Do-hyuk was waiting inside.
Or rather—lying in wait.
“Esper Lim Ji-seo.”
He’d clearly put emphasis on Esper.
Baek Do-hyuk’s smiling face looked exactly like the emoticon (^^). His eyes were properly open and not small by any means, yet when he smiled, they curved so deeply they disappeared. It was the kind of face that belonged in a painting.
Dressed in a three-piece suit once again, Baek Do-hyuk moved to pull out a chair for her.
Overwhelmed by the gesture, Ji-seo quickly pulled out the chair next to it and sat down instead.
Baek Do-hyuk, unfazed, went a step further and sat right down in the chair he’d pulled out.
Which meant—
They were now sitting side by side.
“……”
Had that been his intention all along?
As Ji-seo stood up in confusion, Baek Do-hyuk hurriedly gestured for her to sit back down.
“Just stay seated. There’s something I want to show you.”
Unless what he wanted to show was his perfectly sculpted profile, there was no reason to sit like this. Ji-seo hesitated, then sat back down anyway.
“What would you like to drink?”
“Ah, just water is fine.”
“This is a restaurant, you know?”
He even opened the menu for her.
Feeling their shoulders might touch, Ji-seo subtly leaned left and avoided looking at the menu. In response, Baek Do-hyuk leaned even closer.
“I’m really fine.”
“Then I’ve eaten here a few times—may I recommend something?”
So food first, then the main issue.
Even prisoners get a last meal before execution.
Since they were meeting at a restaurant during mealtime—well, a place more suited to welcoming meals than simply eating them—it probably felt wrong to sentence her without feeding her first.
Maybe this was the final feast before handing her the repair bill.
Ji-seo nodded.
“Sure. Please recommend something.”
“Are you okay with seafood?”
“Yes. I don’t have any food I can’t eat.”
Ji-seo clasped her hands and pretended to read the menu. Baek Do-hyuk explained dishes that were generally well-liked, but she barely listened.
Her head was filled with numbers and supercars.
She responded with half-hearted “Yes, yes, that’s fine,” much like someone saying uh-huh while being briefed on insurance policy warnings.
“Interesting.”
“Pardon?”
When Ji-seo glanced sideways, Baek Do-hyuk was tilting his head and staring straight at her.
Thank goodness he wasn’t an Esper. If he were, lasers would’ve shot from his eyes and punched holes clean through her face.
“I only said it on a whim, but I didn’t expect such an immediate answer. As if you’d been waiting for it.”
“Me?”
Yes. You.
That’s what his gaze said.
Whatever she had just agreed to, Baek Do-hyuk’s long eyes curved enticingly as he smiled.
Ji-seo wasn’t the type to be particularly affected by a man’s looks. And right now, Baek Do-hyuk’s face looked less like a handsome man and more like a luxury car repair invoice.
Just how expensive is this going to be?
Soon, dishes began arriving one by one.
As octopus carpaccio and bread were placed neatly in front of them, Ji-seo cleared her throat again.
“Is anyone else joining us?”
“No. No one else is coming.”
Then why were they sitting side by side like a couple desperately trying to cling to each other instead of talking at a café?
As Ji-seo wondered this, Baek Do-hyuk spoke casually.
“The private room tables here are unnecessarily large.”
They were absolutely not unnecessary.
From Ji-seo’s perspective, the table was perfectly adequate. Sure, it was sized for four, so it might feel large for two people—but wasn’t extra space better?
Her goal today was simply to find out whether the repair cost exceeded five hundred million won. As long as his complaints weren’t about the car, she didn’t care what he said.
So Ji-seo nodded and smiled faintly at everything he said.
People thought Espers just beat up monsters in Gates and lazed around the rest of the time—but that was nonsense.
Nodding along with a superior’s long-winded speech while pretending to listen was something Ji-seo had mastered long ago.
