Chapter 20
Kwon Yul, who had been flying around the inside of the gate at high speed and dealing with everything using telekinesis, spotted Jiseo and Hayeon on his way back. Without even having time to think, he used his ability—and afterward, he sincerely apologized to Jiseo. He seemed extremely sorry; he handed her a towel (pulled from the gate?) and even a brand-new T-shirt (also from the gate?), apologizing over and over. But Jiseo shook her head.
“You helped me, didn’t you? It feels kind of nice—like I went swimming in seonji-guk*.”
At Jiseo’s words, Kwon Yul’s eyes went wide. His face looked like he was about to burst into tears, and Jiseo panicked and hurriedly added,
“No, really. I like seonji-guk.”
“Then… please let me treat you to seonji-guk sometime later, okay?”
Clutching Jiseo’s hand—stained red with an unidentified liquid—Kwon Yul begged earnestly. Watching the scene from a distance, Minhyuk kept dry-heaving. Contrary to his appearance, Minhyuk had a weak stomach; he couldn’t even bring himself to touch seonji-guk, sundae, tripe, or intestines.
“What kind of conversation is that, inside a gate that’s splattered with blood everywhere?”
Junho shook his head. Honestly, the strange one was Kwon Yul, sticking so close to Jiseo. The corpse of the gelatinous monster was a complete mess and smelled awful, so every esper except Kwon Yul kept their distance from Jiseo as they moved out of the gate one by one.
“Um, Esper Kwon Yul, I’m really fine. You go out first. While everyone’s attention is on you, I’ll sneak over to the tent and change clothes.”
“Ah—okay. I’ll do at least that much for you, Jiseo. See you later!”
Promising to make a spectacular exit, Kwon Yul passed through the gate with acrobatic flight. Jiseo waited a moment, then lightly hopped over the gate herself.
As a rule, the area around a gate was always kept wide open, so Jiseo landed easily on the safety mats below. No one knew exactly how he had made his entrance, but the attention of reporters and citizens alike was completely focused on Kwon Yul.
Jiseo waved to the headquarters staff who had been waiting to make sure the espers exited the gate safely, signaling that she was fine. Then she lowered her posture and hurried toward the temporary tent set up for guiding.
Only a very small number of people—besides espers and guides—were allowed inside. Normally, after four nights and five days in a B-rank gate, you’d hear wailing from here and there, and from behind partitioned areas, various kinds of groans with multiple meanings. But aside from the noise of sheer numbers, the atmosphere was calm. That was because Kwon Yul was doing all the “heroics” outside, even now drawing aggro for Jiseo.
Thinking she should have Minhyuk bring some spare clothes from the car, Jiseo stepped into the tent. That was when—
“Jiseo!”
It was Baek Dohyeok. The man’s face was unusually pale. His dilated pupils trembled finely with shock, and his bloodless lips were cracked and quivering. For a split second, the thought that crossed Jiseo’s mind was, ‘It’s not even an A-rank gate—why is he here?’ Before that question could fully register, Baek Dohyeok rushed at her.
“Jiseo, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I was too late—I’m sorry… How did this happen? To the point you can’t even recover like this. Jiseo… Jiseo…”
Realizing he had mistaken the monster’s bodily fluids for blood, Jiseo patted Baek Dohyeok on the back and called his name. But it seemed like he couldn’t hear her at all. His grip tightened like a madman’s, his hands mercilessly burrowing under her clothes. If this were truly an emergency guiding situation, it would have been understandable—but this wasn’t an emergency at all. If anything, Baek Dohyeok’s condition was more worrying.
“Baek Dohyeok, I’m really fine. This isn’t blood, it’s—”
“Jiseo, I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that…”
His words weren’t a statement of guilt so much as a tangle of sobs. Whatever the reason for his behavior, he seemed completely incapable of hearing anything. Jiseo thought she’d have to force him off. But then—his cold lips stuck to her cheek.
An irresistible wave of sensation washed over Jiseo.
It was unpleasant—no, overwhelming. Why had she lived all this time without knowing a feeling like this?
Wherever Dohyeok’s hands and lips touched, sweet pleasure spread, and the ripples soon swallowed Jiseo whole.
She couldn’t hear anything. Only Dohyeok’s tear-mixed voice echoed sweetly in her mind.
Ah… my guide…
In Dohyeok’s arms, Jiseo was utterly happy.
It was only an instant, but Jiseo found herself looking at herself through someone else’s eyes. Dohyeok’s eyes.
They said that if the connection during guiding grew too deep, or if one lost self-control, a guide and an esper could feel each other’s emotions. This was her first time actually experiencing it.
Dohyeok’s gaze as he looked at Jiseo, the emotions he felt, the thoughts that filled him without a single gap—everything was Jiseo. Grief, sorrow, affection, rapture, concern, anxiety. All of his feelings toward her swirled together.
It was astonishing, how deeply someone could think about another person.
But it was a very brief moment.
Dohyeok pulled Jiseo out of his arms. To be honest, it was disappointing. Jiseo unconsciously reached out, then came to her senses and saw Dohyeok gasping for breath.
His eyes reddened, his lips reddened, his ears and neck flushed red—almost the same color as the gore Jiseo had been splashed with.
He seemed to have realized, through guiding, that Jiseo was actually fine—albeit belatedly.
“I—I’m sorry.”
Having realized his grave misunderstanding, Baek Dohyeok’s face turned beet-red as he hurriedly fled the guiding tent. Only then did Jiseo become aware of the many eyes fixed on her.
‘…That bastard Baek Dohyeok!’
After barging in, making assumptions, and trying to guide her, he ran off—leaving Jiseo alone to endure dozens of questioning stares. All while drenched in foul-smelling jelly.
Jiseo changed into a hoodie Minhyuk brought from the car and scrubbed her face vigorously with a wet towel. She could manage her face and exposed skin somehow, but her hair—sticky as if it had been soaked in raspberry juice for three days—was beyond saving. She pulled the hood down low and cinched the strings tight instead.
As she changed, Jiseo’s eyes were so murderous they looked like she might cut someone down, so no one dared approach her. Still, everyone looked like they were dying of curiosity.
Dozens of people had witnessed an S-rank guide—someone who normally wouldn’t bother unless dealing with an S-rank esper—on the verge of losing his mind over a C-rank esper. A man who’d awakened just the other day, yet he was far too emotionally invested for such a short acquaintance. Which meant that Lim Jiseo, who occasionally treated everyone to delicious fried chicken, must have known that chaebol man even before becoming a guide.
Could it be that “Hope Chicken” was actually some famous franchise they didn’t know about?
That kind of speculation hung thicker in the tent than the guides’ guiding energy.
But accepting the “Jiseo is a chaebol” theory was hard, because Lim Jiseo walked a tightrope between a modern-day incorruptible official and a downright penny-pinching miser. Citizens remembered Jiseo for her rare treats, but espers remembered her as their “three great Horcruxes.”
Her old sedan—where if a newly licensed young esper scratched it while parking, she’d just glance at it and say, “You can go”—the worn padding jacket she wore day and night every winter, its ripped sleeves patched with black electrical tape, and the battered crossbody bag she carried 365 days a year with casual or formal wear alike—all of it was rumored at the metropolitan Awakened Management Headquarters to have been a joining gift her father received.
A stingy woman who saved every penny to buy an apartment near an elementary school, paired with a chaebol man born with a silver spoon—wasn’t that just a classic Cinderella story from before the trend of S-rank esper × F-rank guide romances?
They said life is a comedy from afar and a tragedy up close.
But what had just happened was a sitcom from afar and prime YouTube gold up close.
Since Jiseo would be getting guided by Baek Dohyeok alone as the team guide anyway, it would come out sooner or later. Before strange rumors spread, it felt only polite to at least make a gesture of explanation.
No—why on earth had that man come charging in, crying and making such a scene in the first place?!
Seeing Jiseo trembling, Junho muttered, “Just trust your oppa, Jiseo,” and sprang to his feet.
“Guide Baek Dohyeok crashed into Lim Jiseo’s car, and he was already feeling bad. Then he thought the spot where her car was hit had burst open when she got into an accident, so he panicked out of guilt. That’s it—disperse!”
It didn’t help at all. From one corner came a sneer at the completely unconvincing explanation.
“What nonsense. The guiding isn’t even over—what dispersing? You go, Kim Junho.”
“We freeloaded thanks to Esper Kwon Yul—what guiding? If anyone’s getting it, it should be our Jiseo and Hayeon!”
“You lunatic, let go of Guide Jungyun already. Who asked you to keep the fire going so we could grill jerky? Think we’re camping?”
The fire-type esper who had been maintaining the flames to warm dozens of people shouted, tossing a nicely grilled piece of jerky at Junho. Minhyuk snatched it midair, tore it into smaller pieces, and handed them to Hayeon and Jungyun, chewing noisily and praising the direct-fire flavor. The explanation hadn’t worked at all, but at least attention shifted, and Jiseo slipped out of the tent.
Clenching her teeth, Jiseo wandered around looking for Baek Dohyeok. The lingering traces of his guiding energy still sparkled around like scattered silver dust. To Jiseo, who had received the guiding, it felt like the aftertaste of rich chocolate—sweet and bittersweet, making her want just a little more.
Sure enough, Baek Dohyeok wasn’t far away. He was crouched down, head bowed, one hand gripping the back of his neck. A man not exactly small in build, shrunk in on himself in self-loathing—it was a scene just as uncomfortable to approach as the tent she’d just left. But regardless, Lim Jiseo felt responsible.
‘Love him or hate him—he’s still an S-rank guide!’
“Vice President.”
Instead of an answer, a long sigh escaped him. Jiseo crouched down beside him at a slight distance.
“You must’ve been really startled.”
“……”
Baek Dohyeok now had his face buried in both hands. Even without pulling them away, she could guess that the sculpted face beneath wasn’t as neat as usual, but flushed red.
