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Cheon Geon-young had once met a guide who had been partnered with an esper for 15 years at the Center.
The mentor, encountering him during his early days as a guide, openly mocked him for reading countless papers on guiding. To Cheon Geon-young, who was worried about whether he could do his job properly after his late manifestation, she had said:
“If it doesn’t work out, you can worry then. If it works properly, you won’t be able to miss it.”
Cheon Geon-young finally understood the meaning of her words now. If it worked properly, you couldn’t miss it. It was like the fog lifting to reveal everything more clearly.
It felt similar to running down stairs, stepping on each flame one by one.
It was an exhilaration that made it seem like any sense of powerlessness in the world could be easily crushed.
He looked up at her as she abruptly stood up, still holding her cheek with one hand.
To someone unaware of the situation, it might have looked like Yoon Tae-ha had randomly pressed her palm against his cheek.
She slowly backed away. As she retreated, she glanced around and noticed that the last student’s attempt had also failed.
Only the two of them had successfully escaped.
But Yoon Tae-ha’s face was pale, as if she had failed at the most important thing in her life. Kim Doo-eon gathered the students.
Without hesitation, Yoon Tae-ha clutched her towel tightly and jumped into the pool.
There was nothing Cheon Geon-young could do to stop her.
________________________________________
Lee Hae-kyung, finishing his day’s duties, took a deep breath as soon as he entered his familiar home.
Sitting in the director’s seat of the National Office at such a young age wasn’t entirely a happy experience.
Late afternoon. At the meeting held at the Protection Bureau, Director Gong had fiercely attacked him, insisting that the list of espers affiliated with Ark should be fully disclosed to the bureau—a longstanding desire of Director Gong, who was also S-class.
“Let’s be transparent here!”
After yelling this, Director Gong slapped Lee Hae-kyung’s back painfully as soon as they left the meeting room. It was closer to violence than encouragement.
“Director Lee Hae-kyung! How about a drink?”
Though he smiled and declined, Director Gong had known Lee Hae-kyung since he was young. He was one of the few espers who could push their way even when Lee Hae-kyung smiled.
He wasn’t an easy person to deal with.
His fiery temper and emotional swings were balanced by his strict adherence to principles in work.
Surprisingly, Director Gong rarely talked about work during drinking sessions. But today was an exception—he mentioned just one thing.
“We need to settle this while both of us are still alive.”
After hanging his jacket on the kitchen chair, he grabbed a beer bottle from the fridge and headed to the living room, where only a single standing lamp was lit.
Feeling movement in the dark, Lee Hae-kyung paused twisting the cap. The other person didn’t seem to hide their presence either.
“Yoon Tae-ha.”
On the single-person sofa sat Yoon Tae-ha, slumped over in the anorak and shorts provided by Shelter.
“I don’t remember calling a car.”
“I teleported.”
Before Lee Hae-kyung could say anything, she defended herself.
“Don’t worry.”
“How far was it from the West to here?”
“I received guidance. Don’t worry.”
Lee Hae-kyung wore an expression of disbelief. This was the most astonishing thing he’d heard in a year.
Considering the level of incidents handled at the Center, her guidance was indeed a special matter.
He sat across from Yoon Tae-ha. The setup resembled that of a counselor and client. Yoon Tae-ha lay there with her eyes closed, hands neatly folded on her stomach, legs modestly crossed.
Her posture was so perfect she could have been placed directly into a sarcophagus without looking out of place.
With an intrigued tone, Lee Hae-kyung asked,
“When?”
“Today.”
“What were you doing?”
Her eyelashes trembled slightly, recalling the sensation of her cheek being poked.
Yoon Tae-ha replied in a stiff voice,
“Privacy. No comment.”
“Not even to the director?”
“This is the principle. You only need to report whether guidance occurred. Even if Mr. Hawaii asks, I’m not supposed to answer.”
Lee Hae-kyung smiled inwardly.
“She’s grown up since going to school.”
“I have a lot to say about that... but I’m tired today. It’s not my day.”
“You received guidance, didn’t you?”
“That’s different from this.”
Yoon Tae-ha spoke wearily. Lee Hae-kyung sipped his beer silently for a moment. His younger sister-like figure spoke without opening her eyes.
“Did you drink?”
“I had dinner with Director Gong.”
“People who drink like water must have cleaned out the shop tonight. The owner probably hit the jackpot scratching lottery tickets.”
Yoon Tae-ha muttered knowingly without looking.
“The director asked about you. Whether our wild animal was still lively.”
“That man’s voice is too loud...”
Lee Hae-kyung nodded strongly in agreement.
“I passed along the message. When you meet him next, give him a proper greeting.”
“I hope I never have to meet the director again.”
“You liked him when you were young. Wasn’t he your favorite teacher?”
“Tastes change over time.”
Yoon Tae-ha, like Lee Hae-kyung, had a shallow acquaintance with Director Gong.
Before Lee Hae-kyung’s rank was officially registered, Director Gong was Korea’s strongest esper. It wasn’t strange that he became Lee Hae-kyung’s unofficial sparring mentor.
Young Yoon Tae-ha followed him around like another self, so Director Gong naturally knew her from her wild-animal days.
“I doubt you came all this way just to report about the guidance.”
Lee Hae-kyung, halfway through his beer, casually asked. Yoon Tae-ha shook her head while lying down.
“I wanted to hear the progress directly.”
“Ask what you want.”
“How far does it go?”
Lee Hae-kyung held the bottom of the lukewarm bottle and slightly froze it. Drinking the chilled beer again, he spoke leisurely.
“Honestly, though it might sound incompetent, I don’t know yet.”
“If you’re incompetent, all the office workers in the world would freeze to death. I’d be the first to go.”
“Don’t make such extreme comparisons.”
The wind blew through the open window.
Yoon Tae-ha rubbed her arms, feeling a bit cold. Lee Hae-kyung handed her a neatly folded blanket from the sofa. She hugged it like a doll instead of draping it over herself.
“The system is strange. It’s spinning out of control.”
“It’s too organized to be something one person built.”
“Did the investigation on the former principal end?”
Lee Hae-kyung crossed his legs and spoke with a somewhat bitter expression.
“He’s dead.”
“...”
“He died a month ago. He had no family, and he lived in a remote area, so discovery was delayed.”
The former principal was also suspected of distributing amplifiers while working at Shelter.
Lee Hae-kyung’s people investigated him. Without a family, tracking him was difficult. The untraceable money in his account led them to find him sitting in a wheelchair overlooking the sea, mummified and completely dried out.
“A milk deliveryman found him, puzzled by stray dogs carrying strange bones. It was a quiet Southeast Asian resort known for its beautiful sunsets.”
Hearing the story, Yoon Tae-ha sighed deeply.
“It’s a cover-up.”
“It seems he anticipated this and cut ties with the world to hide. But we found him anyway.”
“Who could it be?”
Yoon Tae-ha sat up weakly. Crossing her legs like Lee Hae-kyung, she faced forward. The lone standing lamp behind them seemed to watch over them like a sentinel.
“Should I guess?”
Lee Hae-kyung nodded.
“It’s an inside job.”
His gaze deepened further. Yoon Tae-ha continued in a careful tone.
“People who can command from above the National Office. People who can interfere with Shelter, adjust programs, and block me with authority.”
“Headquarters.”
“You think so too, right? Isn’t that why you recommended me?”
Both had experienced the North. Seo Do-jin was also from the North, but unlike her, his parents were alive.
Espers without families to protect were treated differently from those with families.
“I can’t deny that.”
Lee Hae-kyung answered in a low voice. Yoon Tae-ha spread the blanket like a cloak, hugging her knees close.
“I still remember.”
“...”
“What happened.”
Her eyes glinted coldly.
“They did unspeakable things under the guise of controlling powers. Thinking about it now, there’s enough material for explosive media coverage.”
“You had it harder than me.”
Lee Hae-kyung recalled young Yoon Tae-ha’s tears and covered his eyes.
“Do I really have to go?”
Back then, everyone was young and powerless. The gray walls were high. Reaching the outside world was much harder than conjuring ice in midair.
“There’s no distinction of who had it harder or easier in such matters.”
Lee Hae-kyung turned to look at her.
For someone who seemed softer than she appeared, she was resolute in moments like this. Yoon Tae-ha continued in a slightly angry tone.
“They’ll do anything for better espers.”
That was the biggest reason she hated Professor Yoon.
“Grandfather always said we were the intermediate stage. Like a catchphrase.”
Lee Hae-kyung murmured Professor Yoon’s catchphrase. Even he, who had met Professor Yoon only a few times, had heard it.
“The next stage... let’s move on to the next stage.”
Professor Yoon’s granddaughter nodded.
“What do you think it means?”
Lee Hae-kyung answered in a voice that seemed to sink into silence.
“That we’re incomplete now.”
Yoon Tae-ha let her head drop helplessly. Hearing the answer left her speechless. The more she thought about it, the sharper the thorns embedded in her mind felt.
Unforgettable fragments of memory.
Would it have been better to live happily as ignorant lab rats? But they had already fallen off the wheel.
Too far gone to return.
“Whether it’s the Audit Division, the Administrative Bureau... or the entire headquarters playing with our National Office. We don’t know yet, but one thing is certain.”
Yoon Tae-ha spoke without hiding her bitterness.
“West Shelter is a massive laboratory.”
They were people exceptionally skilled at manipulating from behind the scenes. The subjects likely didn’t even realize they were being manipulated.
Like shadows. When unnoticed, their presence seemed natural. But once aware, you realized they were attached to everything you saw.
And realizing it didn’t mean you could detach them.