HLSEBT - 73

The students who had finished their training were sprawled across various spots on the pool deck. In small groups, they huddled together under towels in warmer areas.

A small number of students swam far from the training site, laughing joyfully as if they hadn’t shed tears moments ago.

Yoon Tae-ha wiggled her toes peeking out from beneath the towel as she gazed at the pool.

“Do you like water?”

Cheon Geon-young asked, watching her.

“Yeah. I started learning when I was little.”

“Because of missions?”

“That too... but also because I practiced controlling my abilities in something like a huge aquarium.”

“Aquarium.”

Cheon Geon-young murmured softly. Yoon Tae-ha glanced at the students doing backstroke and replied,

“It’s similar to here. The difference is that one side was made entirely of glass, like an aquarium.”

One student leapt out of the water like a flying fish and landed on their friend’s stomach. “Aah!” A scream followed, and a splash erupted before settling. The ripple reached the corner where they sat.

Seeing the water approach, she subtly stretched out her legs. Cold water touched her feet.

“How do you practice control?”

She answered while splashing the water gently.

“The researchers would throw metal balls, and I’d lift them without touching them with my fingers.”

“Doesn’t sound easy.”

“It was effective. The weights varied, and the shapes were different. There was less risk of property damage compared to practicing in the air.”

Her voice carried a hint of excitement. This was the first time she had shared stories from her childhood with him. She had mentioned bits and pieces before, but never like this.

I guess training stories are only interesting to me. They’re not particularly fascinating to others.

Thinking this way, she rarely spoke about her past unless directly asked.

All she had done in the North was combat training wrapped in elaborate excuses. Some of it was training no child should have undergone.

She realized that later.

“We’d throw hundreds of balls at once and practice lifting them all simultaneously. Sometimes, they’d assign numbers to the balls, and I’d lift them in order from 1 to 100.”

She added that lifting them in sequence was the most nerve-wracking and difficult part of the training, her brow furrowing as if reliving those moments.

“You couldn’t help but get good.”

“I suppose so.”

“Whether it’s swimming or telekinesis.”

A proud smile tugged at the corners of Yoon Tae-ha’s lips.

“What else was there? Oh!”

Her eyes sparkled as if recalling something fun.

“We often practiced underwater combat with animal-type espers. Teams of three competed to capture a flag planted at the bottom of the pool. It was about a meter long.”

“That sounds pretty standard.”

“The flag attacked people.”

“Did it grow teeth?”

“No, it was covered in needles coated with paralyzing poison. If you got pricked, you couldn’t use that finger for a week.”

“Even with treatment?”

“That’s why it was a week.”

She paused mid-sentence, thinking briefly before speaking sternly to Cheon Geon-young.

“...Come to think of it, this seems like something I shouldn’t share outside.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear about the meter-long paralyzing flag.”

“You remember too well?”

Cheon Geon-young, who had been listening intently, suddenly reached out. It seemed he wanted her hand. Yoon Tae-ha asked curiously,

“Why?”

“Let me see if you’ve been pricked.”

She blinked innocently.

In the middle of the pool, screams still echoed like ripples. With splashes, the set piece and instructors disappeared beneath the surface.

“I was twelve or thirteen when we did that.”

But Cheon Geon-young didn’t relent. He urged her to show him her hand.

“You won’t find anything even if you look.”

Despite her blunt tone, the hand she extended was cautious. Cheon Geon-young placed her hand on his palm.

“Spread it out properly.”

“You’re being quite assertive, Guide-nim.”

The awkward fist-like grip relaxed into an open palm. He looked down at her smooth, unblemished hand.

“Calluses don’t form easily on my hands.”

Cheon Geon-young, whose palms were rough and uneven, looked at her questioningly. She quickly explained, almost defensively,

“It doesn’t mean I neglect physical training just because my palms are smooth.”

“What about badminton?”

“That’s not a mandatory event.”

“You play it enthusiastically but aren’t very good.”

Cheon Geon-young teased openly. His handsome eyebrows shifted, and Yoon Tae-ha leaned slightly back.

“It’s because I’m playing with someone who blames their teammates for defeats.”

“Is that so?”

“I’m much better at singles.”

She flipped her palm quickly and lightly tapped his hand. Thinking she might run away after hitting him, he hastily grabbed her hand.

Their fingers awkwardly intertwined. Yoon Tae-ha panicked. She wasn’t planning to leave. Moving without her partner’s consent was against her principles, and she prided herself on adhering to them.

Despite noticing her panic, he didn’t let go.

“I thought you might run off.”

“Where would I go from here?”

“You’ve been wanting to swim since earlier.”

“Can’t I go?”

“If you go alone, it’ll be boring.”

His voice grew quieter toward the end. Letting go and diving into the water now would make her feel like trash—his expression implied as much.

The distinct smell of the pool, the sunlight pouring down, the splashing sounds, and the two of them wrapped identically in towels like capes—it suddenly hit her how isolated they were, like a deserted island.

Yoon Tae-ha spoke a little hastily.

“Let’s do it tomorrow, tomorrow.”

“Swimming?”

“No, a singles badminton match. Hong Eun-soo probably won’t wake up early tomorrow anyway.”

Hong Eun-soo, who had failed her challenge, was sound asleep on a sunbed with a towel laid out beneath her. She likely wouldn’t wake up on time tomorrow. After physical training, she always showed up halfway through the first class.

“No mercy.”

Cheon Geon-young declared firmly, tightening his grip on her hand.

At that moment, the towel draped over his shoulder slipped down slightly. His damp black hair reappeared, and his swimsuit clung tightly to his upper body.

He showed no intention of releasing her hand to adjust the towel.

Yoon Tae-ha bit her lip nervously and glanced around.

About three teams remained. Kim Doo-eon was still encouraging the students with the same energetic voice as before, though it seemed ineffective.

The last participants, having witnessed too many negative examples, staggered toward the pool with hollow eyes. Even the instructors looked bored.

Deciding she’d had enough of being cautious, Yoon Tae-ha used telekinesis to pull the towel back up.

“Huh?”

Surprised by the towel moving automatically, Cheon Geon-young let out an exclamation. “Be quiet,” she scolded, and he obediently closed his mouth and nodded.

It seemed she was trying to replicate what he had done earlier. To his satisfaction, she focused entirely on him instead of running off.

“Make me look pretty.”

He showed no resistance, appearing content as she meticulously wrapped the towel around him using telekinesis.

“It looks doll-like.”

“Matryoshka?”

“That’s right. Just remembered the name.”

“But it’s a doll where only the face shows clearly.”

He deliberately hunched his broad shoulders, trying to appear as round as possible. Even folded, his frame was still wider than most.

Yoon Tae-ha chuckled softly and slightly lifted the hand still caught in his grip.

“Try stopping your guiding for a moment.”

Cheon Geon-young stared at her with a somewhat cold expression.

To someone unfamiliar, it might have seemed like he was angry. But she knew it was just playful teasing.

She shrugged.

“I’ve lived as an esper for years. I can guess correctly by intuition.”

With a less-than-pleased look, he released her hand.

Freeing her hands, Yoon Tae-ha approached him. As if intending to craft a muscular matchstick girl, she carefully wrapped the towel snugly under his chin.

His gaze followed her face persistently. Where had his earlier fidgeting gone? Now that her face was close, his hands seemed irrelevant.

Cheon Geon-young’s greatest strength was his eyes.

No matter what anyone said, Yoon Tae-ha believed his most powerful weapon was his gaze.

More valuable than his grandfather’s wealth.

While there might be others with such money, she had yet to meet anyone with eyes like his.

They could seem like those of a cold-blooded person who knew nothing of loneliness, then shift in an instant to resemble the eyes of a child left alone in the world.

Under his thick, neat eyebrows, they reminded her of the sea.

Destructive, unyielding, yet capable of breaking the will of someone trapped inside.

Aware that she was being intensely observed by such a gaze, she asked softly,

“Do you know you have dimples in your cheeks?”

“Yeah. Are they visible now?”

“They are. Can I ask you for a favor?”

The eyes that had mechanically followed orders when entering the set piece softened into a rounded shape again. At the word “favor,” his eyes sparkled.

“As long as it’s not asking me to remove them.”

“No, it’s not that...”

“Then tell me.”

She hesitated slightly, as if making a request she shouldn’t.

“Can I poke them once?”

Cheon Geon-young’s dimples deepened. He tilted his head slightly and laughed. Yoon Tae-ha looked confused, unsure if it was rejection or permission.

“Up close, they’re fascinating.”

“Poke them gently. Don’t hurt yourself.”

He willingly granted permission.

Yoon Tae-ha cautiously raised her right hand. Why was she even nervous about something so trivial?

She gently poked the soft, pale center of his cheek.

At the moment of contact—

Both flinched as if burned by hot fire.

Yoon Tae-ha quickly withdrew her hand.

“Ah.”

Cheon Geon-young cupped the spot she had touched with a foolish expression.

“Huh?”

Yoon Tae-ha also stared blankly at her fingertips, feeling a tingling sensation hundreds of times stronger than static electricity spreading from where her finger had touched his cheek.

Like a summer downpour washing away the heat, an electrifying sensation spread throughout her body.

It felt as if her blood had stopped flowing momentarily before rushing back all at once. Her hand trembled so much that she had to steady it with her other hand.

Cheon Geon-young muttered in a cloud-like voice, his dimples disappearing,

“You did it.”

The omitted word at the beginning didn’t matter.

They both understood simultaneously.

It was guiding.