Chapter 6
Ji-seo half-listened to Do-hyuk’s words while skewering a thin slice of octopus and popping it into her mouth.
She wasn’t picky—but she wasn’t particularly fond of food either. To her, food was just something you ate to supply nutrients and energy. Besides, the dishes at this restaurant felt less like meals and more like works of art arranged on elegant plates—better appreciated with the eyes than shoved into the mouth.
And Baek Do-hyuk watched Ji-seo’s profile as if pressing it into his vision, smiling softly—quietly, contentedly.
“Is it not to your taste?”
“No, it’s good.”
“For someone who says that, you’re barely touching it.”
That’s because you’re staring at me like you’re trying to burn a hole through my face.
Isn’t this guy seriously a creep? What, does he get off on watching Espers eat? No—come on. There’s no way something like that exists.
…Then again, I did crash into one of only two cars like that in Korea. Maybe people like that do exist.
With thoughts like that, there was no way the food was going down easily.
Ji-seo had spent over a week inside Gates before. She’d eaten combat rations face-to-face with teammates reduced to bloody pulp, chewed on chocolate bars while standing atop mountains of monster corpses. But those were times when necessity overpowered discomfort.
It wasn’t that Baek Do-hyuk himself was unpleasant. On the contrary—he ranked among the most handsome men Ji-seo had ever seen in real life, and whatever fragrance he wore was subtle and nice.
Still, this was an extremely uncomfortable meal.
Not only was he watching her, he’d practically turned his entire body toward her, staring without restraint. No matter how unflappable Ji-seo was, that would make anyone uneasy.
Baek Do-hyuk was a “top-tier client.” And thanks to Esper regulations forbidding the use of abilities against civilians under any circumstances, there was nothing she could do about it. If things got any stranger, she planned to make an excuse and leave immediately.
Skipping dessert, Ji-seo aggressively wiped her lips with a napkin, making it painfully obvious that she was done eating. Only then did Baek Do-hyuk finally speak.
“If you’re finished eating…”
Here it comes.
Ji-seo took a deep breath and looked down at his hands.
“……”
There was nothing in them. Just his bare palm.
She looked once at his hand, then back up at his face. Baek Do-hyuk waited calmly, his hand still extended.
“…You want to shake hands?”
“Yes. Though if you’d prefer to grip tightly and shake, that’s fine too.”
Was he seriously explaining how to shake hands? The unnecessary detail made Ji-seo frown internally.
“Out of nowhere?”
“You already agreed earlier. When I said I wanted to try guiding after the meal, you said, ‘Yes, yes, I’m fine with anything.’”
“That was about the menu.”
“Oh. I thought that might be the case.”
Despite his realization, Baek Do-hyuk still didn’t withdraw his hand. Ji-seo stared at it quietly.
“So… what you wanted to show me was guiding?”
“Yes. I’ve never done it before, so I was curious. And for now, the fact that I’m a Guide is still confidential.”
Ji-seo nodded.
It wasn’t mucosal guiding or an embrace—just holding hands. People shook hands to greet each other, after all. Besides, Ji-seo had a peculiar constitution: her rampage gauge didn’t rise easily, but it also didn’t fall easily either.
If she’d been A-rank or higher, there would’ve been an uproar the moment she registered as an Esper.
‘An A-rank Esper with exceptionally low rampage risk—how rare.’
That’s what they would’ve said.
But Ji-seo was only C-rank, and her rampage levels were mediocre at best. A few researchers had shown interest, wondering if her unusually stable metrics could be replicated in other Espers—but after concluding that Lim Ji-seo was simply an anomaly, their attention faded.
As a result, her constitution was only a minor topic of conversation within the Capital Headquarters’ Blue Team. Their assigned Guide, Jeong-yoon, especially appreciated it.
Once—just once—when Guide Park Jeong-yoon had taken medical leave, Ji-seo had received guiding from the Guide assigned to S-rank Red Team 1. Being attached to an S-rank team, that Guide was A-rank, and his guiding skills were excellent.
Even so, Ji-seo’s rampage gauge dropped painfully slowly. The efficiency was similar to being guided by a low-rank Guide with terrible compatibility.
Perhaps his pride was hurt—because that A-rank Guide suddenly kissed Ji-seo without warning.
She’d been surprised by the soft, unfamiliar sensation in her mouth—but even the famed mucosal guiding that made most Espers euphoric did nothing for her.
Which meant that no matter how S-rank Baek Do-hyuk was, simply holding his hand wouldn’t make her lose her senses or buckle at the knees.
So Ji-seo reached out calmly.
As her unblemished, smooth hand drew near his, Baek Do-hyuk’s throat bobbed noticeably.
Just before their hands touched—
Beep. Beep.
An alert rang from the Esper-exclusive device on Ji-seo’s left wrist. Reacting almost instinctively, she checked the message and shot to her feet.
“Vice President, I’m sorry, but I have to leave immediately. It looks like a Gate has opened nearby. Please return home as soon as possible.”
Her decisive tone and swift movements startled Baek Do-hyuk, who rose after her.
“If it’s nearby, I can take you—”
Before he could finish, Ji-seo grabbed her coat and bag and rushed out. Baek Do-hyuk stood there, watching the entrance she’d disappeared through, wearing a bitter expression.
Like a child who’d just had a long-awaited Christmas present snatched away.
Then—suddenly—Ji-seo reappeared.
Without even looking properly at his brightening face, she bowed deeply.
“Thank you for the meal. Please send the repair invoice to the email on my business card. And please make your way home safely.”
“…‘Make your way home safely,’ huh.”
Baek Do-hyuk rolled the stiff phrasing around his mouth and chuckled softly.
It wasn’t a large Gate.
Just D-rank—and since it had opened near the Capital Headquarters, stationed personnel entered immediately. By around 3 a.m., all monsters inside had been eliminated.
The moment they exited and sealed the Gate, waiting Guides rushed toward their assigned teams or paired Espers.
Fortunately, due to the low rank and the number of Espers involved, no one had pushed themselves close to rampage. Mucosal guiding wasn’t necessary, so there was no need to enter the temporary guiding tents.
Kim Jun-ho, a B-rank Esper specializing in hit-and-run close combat, was the first to grab Jeong-yoon and start receiving guiding. Despite it being just a hug, Jun-ho’s face slackened with pleasure, and the small cuts covering his shoulders and arms visibly began to heal through his torn combat suit.
Ji-seo waved at her teammates waiting according to their rampage levels. Perhaps because her own wavelength was so stable that Jeong-yoon could sense it, he skipped even the customary suggestion that she at least hold hands before leaving.
“I’m heading out first.”
“Oh, good work today.”
“Nice job, Ji-seo.”
After exchanging farewells, Ji-seo stopped by headquarters to shower and change.
Even if there’d been no blood, she always did this before going home. You never knew what you might bring back from inside a Gate—it wasn’t Earth’s environment, after all.
Though research teams had concluded that Gate exposure didn’t involve dangerous viruses or substances that threatened daily life, it still felt unsettling.
It always did.
When she was a rookie Esper, she’d been especially diligent—she didn’t want her family to see injuries or bloodstains.
Sometimes she considered using the dormitories provided to Espers just to avoid the hassle. But whether she’d been gone for half a day or a full week, going home and seeing her family’s faces always made her feel better.
I have a place to return to.
A place I have to survive and come back to.
Today’s hell wasn’t meaningless.
That kind of stability was absolute to Ji-seo.
In some ways, it grounded her even more than guiding ever could.
