HLSEBT - 75

Yoon Tae-ha buried her face between her knees. Even after saying it, the thought was unbearable.

“It’s no different from the North. We’ve never been told exactly what drugs we take, have we? We took them because they made the pain better.”

After drug administration, testing the increase or decrease in abilities had been a test she endured repeatedly in the North.

If she hadn’t received guidance today, the stress would have left her bedridden for a week. She was lucky. It was an entirely unexpected event.

The expression Cheon Geon-young had shown when he first realized guiding wasn’t fading from her mind anytime soon—his eyes, his breathing, even the way his hair fell.

Yoon Tae-ha pulled the soft blanket over her head more carefully. The growing list of unforgettable events was terrifying.

Lee Hae-kyung slowly opened his mouth as he stared at the dark living room.

“Greenbow Co. is preparing a new drug.”

She turned her head to stare at him silently. Lee Hae-kyung’s usually composed face was now tinged with fatigue and self-loathing.

“The chairman is from headquarters. He knows many people on the island.”

“It’s that new pharmaceutical company that recently succeeded in developing a suppressant, right? I heard they made quite a bit of money from it.”

“He donates an unimaginable amount every year. A lot of his money went into building facilities for Shelter students.”

“Hold on.”

“Does something come to mind?”

“I feel like I’ve seen the chairman’s face somewhere. In one of headquarters’ labs...”

Yoon Tae-ha quickly sifted through her memories. She had applied to visit so many places deliberately to spy.

All headquarters professors’ labs looked similar. Tall bookshelves, massive desks, scattered papers, and a giant screen occupying an entire wall. Busy people coming and going.

After pondering for a moment, she spoke with slightly less certainty.

“Professor Na.”

Lee Hae-kyung nodded, indicating that what she remembered was likely correct.

“I think it was in Professor Na’s lab. There was a photo on his desk of him arm-in-arm with the chairman, holding a plaque.”

“The two co-authored a paper and won an award.”

“Could they be connected?”

Lee Hae-kyung ran his hand back through his hair as he spoke.

“I only know they meet frequently.”

Considering how long he’d been held up by Director Gong, he looked utterly exhausted. Yoon Tae-ha gazed at him with concern.

If the director’s health worsened, there would be employees crying enough to soak their handkerchiefs—not just a few, but an overwhelming number.

As someone in his inner circle, she felt responsible for ensuring his well-being.

For the public good, if nothing else.

“Don’t overdo it. You’re dealing with the Protection Bureau, handling things here, and trying to keep tabs on headquarters all at once.”

“There’s no time.”

Lee Hae-kyung replied with a faint smile, his voice carrying worry for the other person.

In front of a child who no longer said the word “scary,” he seemed helpless.

Yoon Tae-ha spoke softly.

“That’s always the problem.”

“At least we’re fortunate that guiding works.”

It was a statement she couldn’t argue with. To deal with those full of malice, they needed to stay alive as long as possible.

When she couldn’t feel its effects, she had sometimes brushed off Lee Hae-kyung’s advice.

But not anymore. She had felt it since the subway incident. An excellent guide was more than just an auxiliary battery.

It was like having an endlessly supplied potion.

Its performance was undeniable. Now, the crucial thing was the source of the potion.

“Since guiding works, aren’t you going to give me any answers about Cheon Geon-young?”

Lee Hae-kyung calmly responded without rushing.

“He has no connections with anti-government forces. There might be new organizations we don’t know about, but at least he’s not linked to any infamous ones.”

“You ruled out the worst-case scenario. At first, I thought the killer whale was blatantly hitting on me.”

“They know you’re scary.”

“Are you joking?”

Lee Hae-kyung shook his head, signaling he wasn’t. Yoon Tae-ha’s various aliases were each famous in their own right in this world.

“He hasn’t been involved in illegal activities.”

“That pleases me.”

“He graduated from prestigious schools in order. It’s true he was one of the most promising talents at the agent academy.”

She furrowed her brow slightly as she spoke.

“This seems too positive. Usually, ominous signs start appearing around now.”

“If you’re worried, I’ll make sure no information reaches headquarters.”

“That’s basic protocol.”

The official report contained not a single line about Cheon Geon-young’s proposal.

From their first meeting, she had blocked any related information from reaching headquarters. The justification for disabling CCTV was filled with fabricated details.

However, she had told Lee Hae-kyung the truth.

“Cutting the power during the interview was the best thing I did this year.”

He acknowledged her writing skills.

“You wrote a convincing justification.”

“I practically wrote a novel. All I do at work is lie.”

“Want to hear a secret?”

“What kind of secret?”

“I write reports with the same mindset.”

For the first time since their conversation began, she burst out laughing. Lee Hae-kyung let her laugh freely.

After briefly visiting the fridge, he handed her ice cream. Both simultaneously took bites of the artificially fragrant treat.

The cold seemed to freeze the cacophony of voices in their heads.

Dawn was breaking. As the time to leave approached, Yoon Tae-ha stretched out on the sofa again, reluctant to go.

“I don’t want to go to school.”

“You have to. The teachers are waiting.”

“Even if I entered as something other than a student, I’d still have done well, right? Teaching looked fun.”

Lee Hae-kyung avoided answering with silence. His subtle smile didn’t carry an affirmative meaning.

Feeling a deep sense of betrayal, Yoon Tae-ha burned with hostility toward Seo Do-jin.

This was clearly a mishap caused by that man failing to properly report what he saw at Shelter...

“Teachers can’t observe esper students closely.”

“It doesn’t seem like you avoided answering for that reason, Director.”

“It’s already dawn. Both of us need to get to work.”

Lee Hae-kyung, having teased her enough, stood up. Yoon Tae-ha followed suit.

Unusually light on her feet, she swung her arms dramatically to demonstrate. Still, Lee Hae-kyung warned her not to push herself too hard.

“Tae-ha.”

Before leaving, Lee Hae-kyung called out to stop her. She looked at him affectionately, seeing the man who had become an adult before her.

“The uniform suits you.”

Yoon Tae-ha responded with a smile resembling his and turned to leave.

________________________________________

That damn shade of blue.

It should be her favorite color. But thanks to Cheon Geon-young’s interference, its place had become ambiguous.

The blue tie he wore at their first meeting. They had met under the bright summer sky, the Han River visible throughout their journey across the city.

Why did the realization of both being guides happen again in a swimming pool?

Her associative thinking was strong, but it had turned toxic—a side effect of intense training.

Yoon Tae-ha blankly stared at the teacher mechanically reciting precautions for the upcoming mock battle in the auditorium.

The teacher wore a dark blue tie.

“Above all, safety is paramount. Remember, you are not being deployed in actual combat.”

He pointed to a monster displayed on the screen.

“These monsters are puppets created under Ark’s perfect technology, designed with lower combat power than reality...”

Beside her sat Cheon Geon-young. Seeing her slump tiredly into her seat, he leaned closer.

“If you’re sleepy, lean on me.”

His low, secretive tone startled her more than it should have. Realizing she was alone in her thoughts made her even more surprised.

Cheon Geon-young, watching his startled esper calmly, tapped somewhere near the middle of his shoulder and arm.

“No one will notice.”

“...”

“They don’t look interested either.”

Indeed, the hour-long explanation was boring, and students were dropping off one by one, as if sleeping powder had been sprinkled in the air.

Especially the G-class and T-class students who had undergone intense underwater training yesterday—they were almost in a comatose state.

Even Woo Joo-han had nodded off. Hong Eun-soo had covered her face with a small booklet as soon as the lecture started and hadn’t moved since.

Everyone seemed to share the same thought.

They wanted to dive into their dorm beds. Just one hour of worry-free sleep.

If the teacher officially allowed them to sleep, he might rank highly in Shelter’s “Teacher Popularity Poll,” conducted before the end of the school year.

Though the poll was arbitrary and unrelated to salaries.

As expected, children’s wishes weren’t granted.

“Top-tier medical staff will be stationed on campus throughout the mock battle. You can check their building’s location on the website.”

The teacher seemed determined to finish his endless monotone PowerPoint presentation.

The students, however, were in a state where even the appearance of a top-tier singer wouldn’t tempt them away from their dorm beds.

“Lean on me.”

Cheon Geon-young tempted her again.

His blazer, which had been resting on his lap, moved onto her knees.

Hypnotized, she spread it out like a blanket. The name tag “Gwon Hee-seong” was pinned to the chest. From the beginning, she had thought it suited him well.

Especially now, when he was being so smooth.

“We have target practice today. I don’t want to rely on someone who’s falling asleep.”

Come to think of it, even the name tag was blue.

Like a ghost who died pale blue, Yoon Tae-ha suddenly collapsed sideways without warning.

Cheon Geon-young shifted slightly to adjust the height.

“All muscle, huh?”

Because of her job, she had become a walking body composition analyzer. For now, she decided to rely on his dense muscles.

Cheon Geon-young’s voice softened as it settled.

“You did well.”

What exactly did I do well? If it weren’t for you, I’d be sound asleep right now, thinking clearly about what to eat for dinner.

Cowardly, she blamed him.

Yoon Tae-ha had returned to Shelter at dawn and spent the night awake. She was still dazed, trying to deduce why she couldn’t fall asleep.

And she reached a conclusion.

It was probably because she had answered “no” to Lee Hae-kyung’s final question about whether she had discovered anything new about Cheon Geon-young.