Episode 10
“Okay, enough useless waiting around.”
“Yeah. Time to accept it was beginner’s luck.”
“Now, Plan B—activate.”
Yeongwon had come up with a new plan. Thanks to a bit of gossip she’d stumbled on—information everyone else seemed to know except her—she finally had something worth using.
She’d found it by accident, lurking anonymously in a chatroom full of high-ranked Espers and guides—basically fossils of the internet age.
[Baek Yul (ES2): Hey, that nephew of yours who hates guiding, is he still holed up in the annex?]
[Lee Changgyeol (EA7): Yeah, Hyun’s still here. Why?]
[Baek Yul (ES2): Answer me, friend’s nephew ㅎㅅㅎ]
[Baek Yul (ES2): Come in, over~ ㅇㅅㅇ)/ The elder is calling! Don’t ignore me or you’ll get smackedㅇㅅㅇ)//]
[Baek Yul (ES2): Whether you see the chat, answer your phone, or reply to a message—just do something, you brat!!!!!!! This sickly old auntie is saying she’ll come see your face in person!! In this land of Confucian manners, how dare you ignore your elders!! Have you ever heard of respecting your seniors!! Damn kid!!]
[Lee Changgyeol (EA7): Huh??]
[Lee Changgyeol (EA7): lol]
[Lee Changgyeol (EA7): Yul-ah, are you asking to fight me now^^]
[Lee Changgyeol (EA7): I’m in the annex too. If you’ve got time, come by my room^^]
[Lee Changgyeol (EA7): It’s been a while—let’s have a cozy little chat^^]
[Baek Yul (ES2): Ew, no thanksㅇㅅㅇ. Old man, noㅠ^ㅠ]
[Baek Yul (ES2): Scary;;;; waa;;;; 8ㅅ8]
Was this seriously a conversation between two thirty-something department heads, not a pair of high schoolers? Was this the new normal in 21st-century Korea?
As Yeongwon was thinking that, a shocking realization hit her.
That “Hyun” in the annex who hated guiding it had to be Kim Yeohyeon.
Who else could it possibly be?
“So that uncle Yoryeon mentioned—the one from Incheon Port—is Kim Yeohyeon’s actual uncle?!”
The next morning, Yeongwon woke up even earlier than Yoryeon.
At a café that opened at 6 a.m., she bought not only the same hand-drip coffee Yoryeon loved, but also an entire cookie set—spending every bit of her living allowance.
Enough for every member of the Second Emergency Division.
She was desperate.
“What’s all this, Yeongwon? For my team?”
“Ahaha. Unni, could I—really quickly—meet your department head? Just for a moment?”
“Our department head?”
“Yeah. Ten minutes. No, even five.”
After a few generous bribes (aka snacks), the civil servants of the Second Division decided to help her.
And soon, she stood in front of the door to the department head’s office.
Knock, knock.
“Department Head Lee Changgyeol, hello. I’m Guide Shim Yeongwon. We met once before.”
She put on her thickest layer of shamelessness. This strategy was all about guts and smooth talking—not stamina.
“Oh, right. The unselected… Guide Shim Yeongwon?”
“Yes, that’s me.”
“What brings you here? Come in.”
No more waiting around. Time to move on to the next phase—meeting the VVIP herself.
If waiting at the gates didn’t work, she’d parachute straight down in front of him.
“What brings you here?”
“Well…”
Round two.
(The long, awkward, pleading speech that followed will be summarized for your mental health.)
Basically, Yeongwon launched into a desperate, over-the-top speech aimed at Lee Changgyeol.
She figured that, as a member of the Center, he must also want to keep unselected guides like her on the inside—so she’d play on that sense of duty.
She poured everything in: her desire to do her best as a guide, her tragic orphan backstory, and her deep admiration for Yeohyeon.
“…And so, the man who saved my country also saved my life, becoming the light in my darkness… (etc.) …and that’s why, if I could just meet Esper Kim Yeohyeon once, I think I’d want to stay at the Center forever as an unselected guide.”
“My goodness… You truly have an exceptional eye for talent, Guide.”
To her surprise, Lee Changgyeol turned out to be an extreme uncle-fan—the kind who probably ran a secret Yeohyeon photo archive.
Yeongwon didn’t let up.
“Yes! Exactly! I just can’t understand why not everyone praises Esper Kim Yeohyeon the way we do.”
“Right? Our Hyun really is quite adorable and pretty.”
Adorable? Pretty?
She’d seen those elegant hands that could crush steel—but calling the man “cute and pretty” was… a stretch.
Still, Yeongwon swallowed her disbelief and nodded along like a loyal fangirl.
“Yes, totally… very pretty…”
Consistency is overrated in fandom. She reminded herself of that.
“So if you could just set up a meeting—just once, maybe today—I’d be so, so grateful!”
But even after ten minutes of mutual fangirling, she didn’t get her golden ticket to Basement Level 60.
“Sorry, but that’s not possible.”
He refused flatly.
Her follow-up tactics—Begging Plan 1, Begging Plan 2, Begging Plan 3—all met with the same results:
Refusal 1, Refusal 2, Refusal 3.
Eventually, Yeongwon sighed internally and decided to play her last card.
It was risky—something that could make him suspicious of her.
After all, how could a recently rescued, supposedly isolated, unselected guide know what she was about to say?
But no risk could be worse than the current one.
Working in a place where no one ever clocks out.
“Sir, are you aware of something called a grade enhancement? When will the World Tree reassign an Esper’s rank?”
Lee Changgyeol blinked, clearly wondering why the hell the genre of this conversation had just switched from slice-of-life to mystery thriller.
“Well, yes… It’s rare, but I know it’s possible through hard work. Usually, there are special conditions, right?”
“Yes. When the World Tree decides an awakened one has earned it through blood and sweat… it doesn’t immediately raise their rank. It gives them a quest—to fulfill a ‘special condition.’ Were you aware of that detail?”
He stayed silent.
“That special condition you were assigned—you haven’t been trying to fulfill it lately, have you?”
More silence.
“On purpose, I mean.”
The entire tone of the conversation had flipped—from goofy fangirl chatter to something cold and sharp.
“Sir.”
Clack.
Yeongwon placed something on the desk: a broken piece of the car wreck from Incheon Port.
She’d been studying the nature of power ever since that day—and she’d learned a lot. The A-rank physical Esper she saw that day? Probably just the tip of the iceberg.
Even one more S-rank physical Esper—someone like Lee Changgyeol—could shift the world’s political balance.
So why hide it?
He didn’t even show that power during the Ilsan Gate incident. Didn’t help Kim Yeohyeon, either.
There had to be a reason.
“I happened to see a report. It seems your and your division members’ power levels were all listed much lower than they really are. Adjusted to match your official ranks.”
Not just him—she’d already made the same judgment about Yoryeon.
There was no way she was only a C-rank guide.
They’d all underestimated her—like that hospital director once had—without realizing she was watching them closely.
And that gave Yeongwon the advantage.
“Looks like you’ve got someone nearby you can’t trust.”
He said nothing.
“You’re working together with Division Two, Professor Yoon Heeyu, and Director Baek Yul, right?”
His expression hardened.
A guess had just turned into certainty.
“I’m not threatening to expose your secret or drag you down with me.”
“…”
“Not everything I said earlier was true. But I do like Esper Kim Yeohyeon. And yes—I want to be his dedicated guide.”
Lee Changgyeol looked at her coldly.
“Guide… a B-rank guide can’t help an S-rank Esper. Especially not Yeohyeon.”
“Sir.”
Did you not hear what I just said?
Her eyes said the rest.
“…”
Then she added quietly:
“The reason you can’t see my rank isn’t because the World Tree hasn’t assigned one yet.”
For unselecteds, there’s always a gap between awakening and the first rank update—usually about two months.
Sometimes it’s because the World Tree’s signal comes late. Sometimes it’s because the unselected refuses registration.
In that second case, they might not know their exact rank, but they do know their grade.
And as Korea’s first ‘unselected’ to experience the process firsthand, Lee Changgyeol knew it better than anyone.
His expression flickered with confusion. Yeongwon didn’t give him time to recover.
“Right now, there are packs of reporters outside the annex who haven’t even been to the bathroom in days, waiting to snap a strand of Esper Kim Yeohyeon’s hair. Imagine what would happen if I went out there and tossed them some real bait.”
“…”
“So please—let me meet him. It won’t hurt anyone you care about.”
And with that, Yeongwon finally secured her parachute.
Ding.
Basement Level 60.
At last, Yeongwon had arrived at her destination.
It was hard to believe she was underground—the ceiling was impossibly high, the space huge.
If every floor were like this, Basement 60 might as well have been Basement 120.
“AI call.”
Beep.
Security check: unauthorized personnel detected.
Verifying identity. Registered guide: trainee, Shim Yeongwon.
“Access by authority of Director Lee Changgyeol. Temporary clearance.”
Beep.
Access granted.
Guide Shim Yeongwon, you have five hours before automatic removal.
The heavy steel doors slid open one by one, soundlessly.
Knock, knock.
Only one door remained—this one wasn’t automatic.
Knock, knock.
Lee Changgyeol knocked again.
“Hyun.”
“…”
“Hyun, we’re coming in.”
Click.
He gestured for Yeongwon to go first.
She swallowed hard and stepped inside the room where Esper Kim Yeohyeon was.
“…Ah.”
Yeongwon forgot to breathe for a moment.
The smell of medicine…
The white-walled room was divided neatly, and in the center was a massive black sofa—big enough to cover half her dorm room.
And on that sofa, half-reclining, lay Kim Yeohyeon.
Dozens of IV lines—red, blue, clear, milky—ran from machines into his body.
At a glance, there were about thirty.
She counted exactly: twenty-nine tubes.
She couldn’t tell what most of the fluids were. Some transparent, some thick and pale.
But she understood the machines well enough to know—
Beep, whirr, beep, beep, whirr…
Among all those restless mechanical sounds, the stillest thing in the room was Kim Yeohyeon himself.
“He’s fully conscious. Not sick, just resting.”
“Ah… I see.”
“It’s been a while since he left the gate. He’s just taking a break.”
“…”
“He hates being guided by people. Refused it himself.”
When she heard that, she realized—it wasn’t that he was swallowed by the machines, but that he controlled them.
Every line, every rhythm seemed to obey him.
His face was calm.
Most of it was hidden under a mask, leaving only one eye visible—but that single eye looked composed, unwavering.
If those machines are what I think they are… how can he look so peaceful?
He wasn’t in casual clothes anymore. He wore the Esper uniform—crisp, sharper than a tailored suit.
Just the shirt and vest; the jacket was tossed aside somewhere, making him look oddly relaxed.
His body was still immaculate—rolled-up sleeves revealing corded veins, the tie loosened halfway down his throat…
Yeah. Definitely… something else.
That restrained, almost ascetic allure—the kind that made him breathtaking precisely because it was controlled.
“Hyun.”
Even when Lee Changgyeol called, Yeohyeon didn’t move.
But everyone knew he wasn’t asleep.
He simply didn’t feel the need to respond.
Yeongwon understood. She wanted to leave him be, lying there, ignoring the world.
“Esper Kim Yeohyeon. It’s me again.”
But she couldn’t leave—not yet.
“Please. Hear me out.”
