HLSEBT - 19

19. Residents of the Same World 3

“Team Leader, don’t worry and go back to work.” 

I’m not reckless enough to mess with the Cheonhwa grandson, you know. She shot him a pointed look. 

Team Leader Cho chuckled awkwardly. Wishing them a very inappropriate “good time,” he left. 

Once Team Leader Cho disappeared from sight, Yoon Taeha turned toward Cheon Geon-young. He spoke: 

“How’s your condition?” 

“I’ve never had any issues with my health.” 

“That’s good to hear.” 

Clearly, this man had no idea that he had guided her at the subway station. It wasn’t strange for him to be unaware. Unless there were visible external injuries being healed, guides often didn’t feel much impact from their actions on Espers. 

That was why some guides suffered from anxiety. 

Am I really helping the Esper? 

Is the Esper satisfied with my guiding? 

These kinds of questions haunted them. 

But Cheon Geon-young would never ask such things—after all, someone who came here selling company secrets wouldn’t care about Esper satisfaction. 

Yoon Taeha said in a somewhat resigned tone: 

“You can enter freely, but you can’t leave so easily. That’s how it is here.” 

“All companies are like that.” 

“You might regret this later. You could’ve just gone abroad with your grandfather’s support.” 

This was her last chance. Though others might not believe it, she did have a conscience. 

“Do you have anything real to say to me? This is your chance.” 

If you want to run, now’s the time. 

She wasn’t sure if he understood. While thinking about how long his eyelashes were, she engaged in a silent staring contest with him. 

But he crushed the final opportunity. 

“Where do you think has the best food?” 

The first thing you do when assigned a dedicated guide is give them a tour of the company. 

It was an old tradition for Espers to act as tour guides for their new guides. 

Not many people liked it, but those higher up wanted it maintained, so it stayed. 

The intention was good—to quickly break the ice and encourage conversation. 

Unless you were an Esper like Seo Dojin, most Espers were shy around their guides, and vice versa. 

Yoon Taeha wanted to immediately ask what was at stake in Cheon Geon-young’s negotiation deal, but she held back. 

As a fairly seasoned guide, she began by showing him spaces that might interest a new employee. 

The first stop was ARK’s pride—a stunning open-concept library. 

The ceiling soared as if three floors had been combined. 

Giant windows, clearly not designed with insulation in mind. 

The floors and stairs were entirely white, with cozy sofas scattered throughout. 

The library’s center was open, connecting all levels, allowing visitors to freely browse books on each floor via the staircases. 

At a glance, it looked more like an art gallery than a library. Cheon Geon-young offered a fresh observation: 

“This is impressive.” 

“A lot of money went into this. Tourists often visit too—it’s always included in tour programs.” 

Yoon Taeha pointed to the top floor with her finger. 

“If you take a photo from the top looking down, it looks beautiful. The stairs make it appear hexagonal.” 

“Shall I take a picture for you?” 

“I already have countless ones… I could probably make a growth album just with photos taken here.” 

“And even a portrait photo, right?” Cheon Geon-young smirked at her cynical joke. 

Next, they toured various seminar rooms. 

Cheon Geon-young followed closely behind her, like a child visiting a zoo for the first time. Occasionally, he chimed in with agreement. 

Since the building was so vast, introducing the main workspaces alone took quite a bit of time. 

“I skipped breakfast and I’m starving. Shall we eat lunch a little early?” 

“Sure.” 

After all, everyone worked to live. Yoon Taeha’s pace quickened slightly. 

As they moved from the workspaces to the relaxation areas, the population density noticeably increased. 

The sight of people sprawled on couches typing away on their laptops on a Monday morning felt oddly familiar and comforting.

Several employees began staring openly as Yoon Taeha passed by. 

The number of lingering gazes had increased. Walking with Cheon Geon-young seemed to draw more attention than usual. It wasn’t her outfit—she wasn’t wearing anything flashy—but his face stood out. 

“Hey, look to the right.” 

“Wow... He’s new! How long do you think this one will last?” 

“Fifty-fifty, maybe?” 

One man blatantly poked the person sitting next to him. 

“How long did the last one last? Two weeks? Three?” 

“One and a half weeks, wasn’t it?” 

She heard everything, but Yoon Taeha didn’t even twitch an eyebrow. They knew she could hear them too. 

How amusing. Based on experience, bets probably started already—something like 100,000 won if they break up within a month. 

Just as ordinary people were fascinated by top-tier Espers, Espers were equally curious about who was assigned above them. 

In fact, their curiosity was often more blatant. 

The reasons varied: admiration or curiosity toward someone in the same field earning the highest salary, jealousy over being assigned an excellent guide first, accumulated animosity from shared missions layering like sediment, or even instinctive aversion toward their own kind. 

Yoon Taeha gave Cheon Geon-young an advance warning. 

“You’ll probably hear comments like that often. But since this isn’t a regular company, poking fun won’t have much effect.” 

“Are you worried?” 

“Considering you’re a beginner. If your abilities manifested later in life, aren’t you somewhat distant from Esper society?” 

Cheon Geon-young scanned the faces peeking out from various corners. They resembled meerkats—not small and cute, but rather, dark circles under their eyes were noticeable. 

He answered clearly: 

“I don’t care.” 

“That’s good then. Those kinds of things are beyond my control.” 

Yoon Taeha nodded blandly. Leaving behind the hyena-like crowd sniffing for juicy gossip, the two headed to the cafeteria for lunch. 

They didn’t exchange any particularly meaningful conversation. 

With freshly fried pork cutlets in front of them, they babbled about whether Western-style or Japanese-style cutlets were better. 

While observing each other down to the second, they acted as if they were old high school friends meeting after a long time. 

Both were experts at maintaining the appropriate atmosphere. 

After lunch, she showed him the locations of the infirmary and various evacuation facilities. 

She also demonstrated how to use protective gear in case of an Esper rampage. In truth, she relied on Cheon Geon-young for about half of it. 

Yoon Taeha had rarely used such protective equipment herself. Awkwardly, she pulled out an umbrella-shaped device. 

“So... you press here and pull it out.” 

“The markings are a bit ambiguous, so even cadets sometimes get confused.” 

“Do they use this at the agent academy too?” 

“Yes. ARK makes the best armor. The defect rate is low, and it’s lightweight, so those in active duty love it.” 

“The workshop guys would be thrilled to hear that. I’ll pass it along later.” 

By the time they finished touring all the facilities related to the guide’s safety, it was late afternoon. Still, there was plenty of time left before quitting hour. 

“It’s your first day, so let’s leave early.” 

Yoon Taeha called the elevator as they prepared to head down to the lobby. 

“Am I done with everything I need to do?” 

“The first week after joining is usually an adjustment period. Since I don’t have any immediate missions, you’ll probably be free for a while too.” 

“Lucky me.” 

Well, she thought privately, it’d be better to talk about this after running a mission together. Scaring a partner beforehand wouldn’t do any good. 

In the meantime, the elevator arrived. 

Yoon Taeha naturally let Cheon Geon-young step in first. 

The elevator’s rear wall was made of glass, offering a panoramic view of the cityscape. Cheon Geon-young pressed the button. 

The massive metal box carried them downward. 

Yoon Taeha faced the blank front wall, while Cheon Geon-young slightly turned his body to gaze outside. 

Without blinking or changing her expression, she suddenly asked: 

“Mr. Cheon, do you have acrophobia?” 

“No.” 

“Claustrophobia?” 

“No.” 

“Good.” 

She murmured softly.

And then—thud. 

The elevator came to a halt, suspended in midair. It showed no intention of moving again. After an ominous sway, only silence remained. 

The lights on the floor buttons flickered off with a tick. 

“It seems like it’s broken.” 

Cheon Geon-young moved toward the emergency button, likely intending to call for help. She stopped him before he could do anything unnecessary. 

“It stopped on purpose.” 

Turning around, Cheon Geon-young raised an eyebrow slightly. Looking at him like this, he almost seemed a bit mischievous. 

Believing that a person’s true face emerges when faced with unexpected situations, she found this version of him more appealing. Her follow-up question was rather cold. 

“You did this?” 

“I can’t just mess with company property whenever I feel like it.” 

She leaned comfortably against the elevator wall, showing no signs of tension. Seeing her calm demeanor, he also stepped back from the buttons. 

“This is quite dangerous for a welcome event.” 

“Since you’re with me, there’s no chance of you getting hurt. Think of it as a show.” 

“A show?” 

“To check how an Esper behaves toward their guide in tense situations.” 

“For example?” 

“Sudden ambushes, unexpected accidents, unpleasant situations, and the resulting rise in the Esper’s tension levels.” 

“So you’re observing how I react to sudden situations with my guide nearby?” 

He had pinpointed the intent accurately. 

“Our company is particularly thorough about protecting guides. The elevator will start moving again on its own after some time. It’s all formalities.” 

“I thought Espers were considered more valuable.” 

“Really?” Yoon Taeha burst into a genuinely clear laugh for the first time. Her cheeks lifted and didn’t seem to come down anytime soon. Her eyes sparkled with pure surprise, without a trace of sarcasm. 

“I didn’t know the industry’s reputation was like that.” 

Cheon Geon-young stared intently as the corners of Yoon Taeha’s lips slowly lowered back to their usual position. He had a habit of looking people directly in the face—intensely, almost uncomfortably so. 

“Anyway, sorry. This is happening because of me.” 

“Do we have to keep waiting?” 

“I think they’ll release it in about 15 minutes…” 

She glared at the still-unresponsive control panel.