HLSEBT - 25

25. Come over, young lamb 1

If she didn’t finish her tasks, it wasn’t unthinkable that they might decide to switch contractors, deeming her useless. The people around Chairman Cheon she had observed so far were meticulous in their calculations.

Hiding her distrust of their partnership behind a smooth smile, she spoke:

“He’s surprisingly honest.”

“That already sounds like a lie.”

He had a way of hitting the nail on the head with a smile, delivering potentially unpleasant words without making them sound offensive.

So this was what it meant to be well-polished?

She could almost see Seo Do-Jin nodding in approval somewhere.

“You need to learn how to navigate life with a little more tact.”

She had heard something similar just yesterday when she complained about how difficult it was to deal with Cheon Geon-young.

“What if distrust starts growing between us already? You’re overreacting. If I get sick, I’ll storm over and demand you stop guiding immediately.”

“I’d actually like to see that happen.”

“…You’re an odd one. Later on, you’ll see me plenty, even if you don’t want to.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Just don’t run away when that time comes.”

Their conversation ended with both subtly dropping honorifics at least once.

Was Cheon Geon-young unconsciously maintaining some form of passive guiding? Sitting next to him seemed to dull the headache that usually buzzed around her like mosquitoes on a summer night.

Yoon Tae-Ha rested her chin on her hand as she watched the diligent man finish his survey.

Why are his eyelashes so pretty?

Shaking off the trivial thought, he finally looked up.

“I’m done.”

“Good work. So now we…”

What were they supposed to do next?

As Yoon Tae-Ha lifted her smartphone to check the schedule, an alarm popped up in bold letters:

[Summoned by the Center Director] 

- Building A, 23rd Floor, Conference Room 1

Being summoned above the 20th floor meant the easy days of coasting by were over. Naturally, she stood up to go alone, but Cheon Geon-young rose with her.

“The Center Director is calling.”

---

Ark’s Korean branch in Yeouido consisted of three buildings.

First, there was Building A. It functioned similarly to the ancient Greek agora, where people gathered for discussions—meetings, meetings, and more meetings. Most regular employees worked here, and certain areas were accessible to tourists.

Building R was dedicated to research (Research Wing). This was where Ark’s new drug development and studies on Espers’ physical abilities took place.

Building K was designated for Espers.

Some joked it was where the “killers” worked, but officially, the name came from “Knight.” Given that Ark itself was an institution established abroad, this made sense.

Naturally, access to certain areas depended on an employee’s security clearance level.

The first place Cheon Geon-young and Yoon Tae-Ha met was the 19th floor of Building A—the highest floor accessible to those not yet employed by Ark.

From the 20th floor upward, only officially registered employees were allowed entry.

Cheon Geon-young, blessed with good bloodlines and Esper compatibility, saw his security clearance skyrocket upon joining.

The final approval came from Lee Hyuk-Kyung, who consulted Yoon Tae-Ha about the decision—a chain of command that might lead outsiders to think she held the real power.

“There’s no glass in the elevator.”

Of course, there were separate elevators for floors above the 20th. The space felt like being inside a steel cage or an armored transport vehicle, completely enclosed.

Yoon Tae-Ha, accustomed to frequent visits, didn’t find the space particularly remarkable.

A few seconds later, she added an explanation for the benefit of the new Guide:

“It’s to guard against any deranged Espers who might try to break in from outside. Anyway, company Espers never teleport above the 20th floor.”

“Are there traps set up?”

“If I told you, the security team would get upset. Just know it’s better for your safety not to ask.”

“What about you, Tae-Ha?”

“I’m an Esper too. No choice there.”

As soon as Cheon Geon-young stepped out onto the 23rd floor, his expression shifted as he realized why Espers didn’t teleport here.

There wasn’t a single transparent door or window in sight. Unlike the lower floors bathed in natural light, the 23rd floor relied entirely on artificial electric lighting.

A long corridor that almost felt like an underground bunker built to avoid bombings stretched out before them. At the end of the corridor, they arrived at a wide-open space resembling a hangar used to store fighter jets. It was similar to the library they had visited during the company tour, with extremely high ceilings and no windows connecting to the outside. Espers from the security team were stationed throughout the area, standing guard.

“It’s heavily guarded,” one of them remarked.

“In truth, it’s not much different from the lobby. The only difference is that the people there wear civilian clothes, while the ones here wear uniforms with logos on them.”

The two headed toward the conference room located farthest from the elevator. Yoon Tae-ha swiped her ID card at the entrance of the conference room and opened the door. Standing alone on the podium inside the lecture-hall-like meeting room was Lee Hae-kyung.

The attendees of the meeting were few: the Center Director, an S-class Esper, and the S-class Esper’s Guide.

Lee Hae-kyung greeted them warmly. “You’ve arrived quickly.”

Was some world-shattering rift about to occur? The Center Director himself was checking the slides.

Yoon Tae-ha asked, “Are you going to explain this yourself?”

“If you’re not satisfied, should I call someone higher up?” Lee Hae-kyung replied with a mischievous grin.

“Why are you saying such scary things…”

Pretending to be scared, she rubbed her arms exaggeratedly with her palms before turning her attention to Cheon Geon-young. She picked up two copies of the report and placed them in the seat where her guide would sit.

For the first time, Cheon Geon-young found himself beaten to the punch in such matters. He stared at his Esper as if observing a curious lifeform but didn’t forget to greet her.

“Thank you.”

Yoon Tae-ha shrugged her shoulders.

Seeing this, Lee Hae-kyung’s lips curled into a faint smile, like a teacher watching kindergarten kids awkwardly make up after a fight.

Though it wasn’t hot, Yoon Tae-ha fanned herself lightly with the report. She was just being considerate because she was told to do so—surely, no misunderstandings would arise from that.

Cheon Geon-young and Lee Hae-kyung, who were meeting for the first time, exchanged brief nods. Meanwhile, Yoon Tae-ha couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being scrutinized.

In the meantime, Lee Hae-kyung rolled up her sleeves slightly and projected the report onto a large screen.

[Undercover Investigation of the Seoul West Shelter]

Upon seeing the title on the screen, Yoon Tae-ha quickly began reading through the report. Anticipating resistance, Lee Hae-kyung cut straight to the chase.

“Since Agent Yoon’s health hasn’t fully returned to normal yet, the Center has decided not to assign her to rift-related tasks for the time being.”

At the mention of health, Cheon Geon-young quietly glanced down at the Esper seated beside him.

Yoon Tae-ha, engrossed in reading the report, missed this exchange.

“For now, she will be assigned missions that require minimal use of her abilities. We’ll also work on synchronizing her with her guide. Only after at least three stable guidances have been successfully completed will she be allowed to return to rift missions.”

Cheon Geon-young asked, “What exactly does ‘stable guidance’ mean?”

“It refers to a moment when the guidance is consciously initiated according to the guide’s will—not something that happens unconsciously or by chance.”

“So, you’re saying that I can only resume rift missions when I’m able to perform guidance whenever I want.”

“That’s correct. Though Agent Yoon may seem tough on the outside, she’s quite fragile on the inside. Here’s a tip: when she complains, it means she’s fine. When she doesn’t complain, that’s when she’s in real danger.”

“Thank you for the information.”

As the two men conversed, the Esper sitting nearby muttered softly, almost like a sigh.

“Boss…”

Lee Hae-kyung pressed for a response. “From now on, the agent must accurately report to the Center whether guidance has occurred. You’ve probably already been informed of this.”

“…I’ll keep that in mind.”

Lee Hae-kyung began flipping through the slides. By coincidence, Yoon Tae-ha closed her report at the same time, her face brimming with thoughts.

“A few days ago, we received a tip from the West Shelter.”

The gist of Lee Hae-kyung’s explanation was simple.

There were reports that a drug claiming to amplify esper abilities and raise their rank by one level was being traded secretly within the shelter.

“Of course, no officially approved drugs exist that can do that. While it’s rare, there are cases where an esper’s rank increases naturally over time.”

Yoon Tae-ha nodded knowingly and added, “It’s impossible to raise it with drugs.”

“That’s right. But apparently, someone is selling it.”

The screen changed.

It displayed a dense grid of faces—espers affiliated with the West Shelter and the faculty members responsible for their training.

“So, the drug is trending among espers. Naturally, it’s illegal.”

Lee Hae-kyung gave a light nod in response to Cheon Geon-young’s statement.

“We’ve already obtained the drug, and the research division has analyzed it. I doubt it’ll come as a surprise, but it’s not a legitimate drug.”

In fact, it was a harmful substance with side effects. 

It caused physical deterioration and memory loss—essentially, a counterfeit drug that did the exact opposite of what it promised.

“It can temporarily enhance physical abilities. However, prolonged use will harm your health.”

“All drugs like this end the same way,” Yoon Tae-ha remarked skeptically. “They borrow from your future to boost the present.”

“The real problem is the scumbags selling it.”

For some reason, Lee Hae-kyung looked oddly pleased. 

“Our investigation so far has revealed that there are sellers of this illegal drug within the shelter. They could be instructors, students, or possibly both—we’re not ruling anything out.”

Cheon Geon-young, having finished reading the report, summarized the situation. 

“So, we just need to find out who’s selling it.”

“Not just the sellers, but also the buyers—and anyone profiting off them in the middle.”

The three fell silent for a moment, each organizing their thoughts. 

Among them, Lee Hae-kyung was curious about why Yoon Tae-ha hadn’t pushed back against the assignment. 

And then, true to her nature, Yoon Tae-ha raised her hand—not exactly the epitome of decorum. Seeing her fluttering fingertips, Lee Hae-kyung suppressed a smile and feigned innocence. 

“Do you have a question, Agent?”

You know exactly what I’m going to ask. With that exact expression, Yoon Tae-ha gestured for her to move to the next slide. 

Lee Hae-kyung switched the screen. 

Two IDs appeared, each bearing the photos of Yoon Tae-ha and Cheon Geon-young. The IDs looked flawless at first glance—perfectly normal. Except, of course, for the fact that the names and birthdates were different. Only the photos and genders matched correctly. 

Frowning as if she’d just seen something bizarre, Yoon Tae-ha asked: 

“Who is that?” 

Lee Hae-kyung responded with detached composure, as if she’d been expecting the question all along.