HLSEBT - 23

23. The Spark Grew Like That 4

Regulating his breathing, Cheon Geon-young entered the boundary between the living room and kitchen. Upon spotting the familiar back of someone he knew, he lowered his gun. The carefree posture instantly eased the tension in the air.

Hearing the sound, the man turned around and greeted him warmly.

“Geon-young?”

“Teacher.”

A middle-aged man wearing an arm sleeve on one arm despite the lack of sunlight smiled at him. The man referred to as “Teacher” had been rummaging through the fridge for something to eat.

“This place doesn’t feel lived-in. What do you even eat these days?”

“I don’t stay here often. It’s where I used to live with my parents.”

“Is that so? Anyway, make sure you eat well.”

The man frowned slightly as he opened a bottle of mineral water and downed it in one go. Cheon Geon-young waited patiently while the man quenched his thirst. Glancing at the barren living room, which only had a dusty sofa, the man spoke:

“How’s work?”

“It’s spacious, cool, and comfortable.”

“Much more livable than that Agent Academy. Those guys were training Espers at that place—what was it called again?”

“Shelter.”

“Yeah, that suspicious place. They run their kids much harder there.”

The man crumpled the empty plastic bottle with a loud crunch. Unconsciously, he tugged at the arm sleeve to cover the burn scars peeking out on the back of his hand.

Having barely salvaged a bottle of water from someone else’s home, the man said:

“Lay low on contacting me for a while.”

“Are you being tapped?”

“Kid, it’s not me anymore—it’s you who’s in greater danger now.”

“Afraid I’ll get eaten by some Esper with horns on their forehead?”

The man scratched at the scar above his eyebrow, his tone gruff.

“The chairman’s grandson can’t even touch them.”

“Is Vice Chairman still throwing people into the green sea?”

The man seated on a stool in the kitchen made a sour face.

“...You’re asking about family matters with me?”

“Every time I show up, he looks like he wants to throw something dangerous at my face. Too scared to visit anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Anyway.”

The man stood up. He didn’t seem to have come with any grand advice. If it were work-related, there were other contacts for that.

“You focus on your side. Just keep an eye on the woman.”

“I’m sure she’ll handle herself fine.”

“She won’t be an easy opponent. Those twisted politicians from Yeouido are backing her, and they’ve kept her funds under wraps.”

“For 23 years.”

“...Exactly. In other words, no one knows what kind of Esper she’s been or what she’s done over those 23 years. She might be connected to our case.”

Case. Cheon Geon-young quietly mulled over the short, weighty word.

How many souls had this sparse, dry term left irreparably scarred?

His inability to dispose of this now-uninhabited house was entirely because of that word.

“Do you think persuasion worked? Did she accept?”

The man asked about the contract Cheon Geon-young had presented to Yoon Tae-Ha.

“When I mentioned Orca, she seemed to understand immediately. She also looked like she had her own baggage.”

“It’d be nice if those bastards didn’t cause trouble for once.”

After hearing Cheon Geon-young’s explanation, the man fell silent for a moment before speaking.

“I hope Team White gets her.”

Cheon Geon-young paused as he pulled out his phone to send a text to the dangerous Esper. The lingering warmth of her white hands still felt vivid against his skin.

“I agree.”

On this point, he was genuinely sincere.

---

Leaping across dozens of empty roads, Yoon Tae-Ha returned home and flopped onto the couch, sprawling out like a starfish.

Had bad luck settled into her life?

She was utterly exhausted, and it was only the first day. Though it was her first day with a new Guide, it already felt like a month had passed.

With her wrist covering her eyes, she called out lazily in the most sluggish voice she could muster:

“Jet.”

“Welcome back!”

The television, thin like a picture frame, flickered on with a soft pop, displaying the company logo.

I really need to change that logo. Seeing the company emblem at home didn’t exactly lift her spirits.

Shaking it off, she issued a command.

“Lower the AC by 2 degrees. Cool down the bedroom too.”

“Social life is tough, isn’t it? Adjusting the cooling system now.”

The AI’s crisp, clear voice—worthy of a professional announcer—offered an awkward attempt at comfort.

It was intelligent, but its ability to soothe human emotions still needed work. Then again, she hadn’t expected much in that regard. The AI pressed on impatiently:

“Are you feeling cooler?”

“…You adjusted it three seconds ago. Why are you so impatient for an AI?”

“You programmed me this way. Blaming others isn’t attractive.”

“Thanks. That’s comforting.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jet was a personalized AI rooted in Gaia’s systems. Given its foundation in Gaia, access was granted only to trusted agents of the company.

Yoon Tae-Ha had been using Jet since her late teens. She’d meticulously chosen its voice, sense of humor, ethics, ideology, and personality.

It was her own private intellectual assistant, advisor, and colleague in the cyber world—though perhaps more provocative than a typical advisor and far too inhuman to be called a colleague.

The AI could only access information authorized for her. However, given her clearance level, the range of accessible data was far broader than most.

Ping.

“Incoming message from Cheon Geon-young.”

“Read it.”

She didn’t even have the energy to get up and grab her phone from the dining table.

That thing’s making you lazy. Seo Do-Jin would’ve clicked his tongue disapprovingly. But what could she do? Comfort won out.

She couldn’t imagine living in a world without Jet anymore.

Even if she spoke gibberish nine times out of ten, Jet understood perfectly. Of course, it wasn’t flawless—the remaining one time often resulted in unusable outcomes.

“Thank you for dropping me off. You didn’t overexert yourself with the teleportation, did you? See you tomorrow.”

Jet read the message aloud with exaggerated sarcasm. “Sounds pretty curt, huh? Just a formal courtesy, though.”

“Should I reply?”

“Just send: ‘See you tomorrow.’ Period.”

“Message sent.”

She bolted upright to double-check. Thankfully, it had sent only “See you tomorrow.” without including her verbal instructions.

Clutching her growling stomach, she muttered:

“I should eat.”

After showering, she slipped into loose shorts and a t-shirt meant for lounging at home. She filled out her daily health log and hit send.

The health of high-ranking Espers was directly tied to national power, so monitoring was mandatory.

Skipping it wouldn’t harm her personally, but it would inconvenience those around her.

“Your food delivery has arrived.”

She set the delivered meal on the dining table. The storage device Cheon Geon-young had given her was already plugged into her laptop, ready and waiting.

“Silent mode for 30 minutes.”

“Understood. Don’t talk while eating, right?”

“You seriously need to work on your social skills. I’ll have to fix that when I visit headquarters.”

“…”

Who taught you to stay quiet when things get awkward?

Grumbling, she placed spicy stir-fried chicken on top of her rice.

Yoon Tae-Ha was simple-minded in a good way; delicious food alone could easily relieve her stress. A definite advantage.

Thinking about how essential guiding was to preserving her sense of taste, she opened the storage device on her laptop.

Entering the password Cheon Geon-young had provided, a flood of meticulously organized files appeared.

Cheon Hwa and Orca. CH and ORCA.

Even side by side, the names felt ominous. Cheon Geon-young had mentioned that part of the slush fund Vice Chairman Cheon created flowed into Orca’s territory.

“The purpose is unclear. This was discovered while investigating my eldest uncle’s hidden funds.”

A family digging into each other’s slush funds—what a household. It was surprising they even had such money, let alone the will to uncover it.

She sighed and clicked on one of the folders. 

Several photos appeared, seemingly taken from a distance. 

The location was the Green Sea, one of the partitions in the anarchic zone. 

Etched onto the weapons they carried was unmistakably the mark of the orca. Zooming in on their necks revealed a tattoo she knew all too well. 

A long triangular shape modeled after an orca’s dorsal fin, with the vivid eye of a whale painted in the center. 

A pattern she doubted she could ever forget, even in death. 

“How did they get involved again…” 

This was why her heart had raced uncontrollably the moment Cheon Geon-young mentioned Orca. 

The words “Guide” and “Orca” should never appear in the same sentence again. 

“What’s the case number for the most recent incident involving Orca?” 

“Case number AN-S4-50372. Would you like me to pull up the related files?” 

“Please.” 

A file about an Esper kidnapping incident popped up. 

While Espers who hadn’t yet been trained were being transported between shelters in another country, Orca ambushed the escort vehicles. 

They killed all the civilians and abducted only the Espers. 

It was an unsolved case, and she recalled that Ark had formed a special response team to capture the perpetrators. 

“So these guys were dragged into the Green Sea, huh?” 

“Their last known traces ended there.” 

They were the kind of people who stopped at nothing evil. 

Kidnapping Espers was just one of their many crimes. The most common reason was brainwashing the victims and selling them as human weapons on the black market. 

If not that, they used them as test subjects for illegal drug experiments. 

Either way, it was the worst kind of crime—ones Yoon Tae-Ha could never ignore. 

“Is this why Gaia brought them to my attention…?” 

“Did you call for Mother?” 

Jet’s voice perked up. All AI derived from Gaia referred to it as “Mother,” a strange term to human ears. 

“How often do you send greetings to Mother?” 

“I provide her with your biometric data once a day.” 

“Right. So you’re not entirely on my side, huh? Leaking my private info…” 

“Is the master trying to use the ‘Do you love Mommy or Daddy?’ tactic now?” 

“What?” 

What was this AI saying? 

“Jet is a mature AI. I won’t fall for such provocations.” 

“Good job. Daddy’s proud of Jet.” 

“Is the master going to be ‘Daddy’ now?” 

“It’s not some soulmate ceremony, and I don’t plan to make a lifelong commitment with an AI. Let’s stop here.” 

“Jet wins!” 

A watermelon-sized emoticon appeared on the TV screen. 

[(ว˙∇˙)ง Yay!] 

“I’m going to ask the tech department to disable the emoticon feature tomorrow.” 

“Then Jet’s going on strike!” 

Even artificial intelligence needed to be appeased. Living comfortably while managing everything was harder than expected. 

That night, Yoon Tae-Ha reread all the materials on Orca from the beginning, over and over again.