HLSEBT - 8

If she flinched now, she’d be drawn in from that point onward. That’s just how the relationship between Espers and Guides worked. She didn’t hesitate to accept the handshake. 

“My name is Yoon Taeha.” 

After a brief handshake, she withdrew her hand, barely resisting the urge to wipe her palm on her pants. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting. I had to discuss something with the team leader.” 

“It wasn’t difficult. The view here is nice. It’s been a while since I’ve been to Yeouido.” 

The two sat facing each other, maintaining an appropriate social distance between an Esper and a Guide. 

One was preoccupied with thoughts of leaving soon, while the other was busy observing her. 

“You came here for the fourth-round interview, right? Mr. Cheon Geun-young?” 

“Yes.” 

Feigning regret and sympathy, Yoon Taeha got straight to the point. 

“The timing between the center and me didn’t align.” 

The deadline for selecting a Guide was in two days. She had already chosen someone. There had been a communication issue between the center and her. She apologized for making him come all this way unnecessarily. If he wished, she would take responsibility for the mistake and arrange for him to become the Guide of another Esper with a good work ethic. 

He listened silently. It was impeccable listening. 

Perhaps it was just his background, but he reminded her of the kind of CEO’s son who would smile and say, “I’ll head out first,” before leaving work in front of the department head. 

Yoon Taeha finished her explanation, feeling an inexplicable unease. 

Alright. Now either say, “I understand,” and leave, or waste more time by throwing a tantrum. 

Contrary to her expectations, Cheon Geun-young appeared to accept the situation without resistance. 

“That’s unfortunate. I didn’t know someone had already been decided.” 

“Right.” 

“I don’t think there’s any need to inform the center separately. I prefer to choose my dedicated Esper personally.” 

As if you can simply choose one. Did he already plant someone in HR? His response irritated her subtly. 

What irritated her even more was the sense that he was doing it intentionally. 

She calmly replied, 

“Suit yourself.” 

“However, may I ask one question?” 

“I’ll answer if I can. But it might not be a satisfying response.” 

“It’s nothing complicated. Just a minor curiosity.” 

Yoon Taeha struggled to gather her composure, trying to calm the lake of her emotions. 

“What happens if a disqualifying issue is found with the currently selected Guide within two days?” 

And then, he threw a stone into the still waters, as if to make a statement. 

His handsome face radiated certainty. 

“…What?” 

“I’m curious about what happens if Yoon Taeha only has one Guide candidate left. Would they automatically pass?” 

“What do you mean, ‘what happens if there’s only one candidate’…?” 

“Sometimes issues arise where the currently selected person violates past center regulations, right?” 

All other candidates aside from me will be disqualified. 

Though he didn’t say it outright, the implication was clear. This wasn’t a question born of curiosity about procedures. It was a question from someone who already knew what the disqualifications were.

Knowing the disqualifying factors meant that the man in front of her was aware of Yoon Taeha’s Guide candidates. 

And that should have been impossible if the system was functioning properly. It wasn’t a topic someone outside the company could bring up. 

Yoon Taeha considered several possibilities. 

“Cheon Geun-young.” 

The first thing that came to mind was: 

“Are you, by any chance, a police officer?” 

Perhaps surprised by the unexpected question, the man tilted his head slightly to the right. 

“Graduates of the Agent Academy are under military jurisdiction until they complete their mandatory service period. I plan to fulfill that obligation here through a collaboration agreement.” 

As soon as she heard this predictable answer, Yoon Taeha stood up and began tapping nervously at a corner of the meeting room wall. 

Beep. The section of the wall, camouflaged as an ordinary surface, split open to reveal a control panel. After authenticating her access with a fingerprint, she demanded in a cold voice: 

“Block off Conference Room 3-2 on the 19th floor of Building A under Yoon Taeha’s authority. Duration: 15 minutes—no, 10 minutes.” 

- Identity confirmed. All audio and video in the designated area will be blocked for the next 10 minutes. 

Ding. With the cheerful voice of the AI, the lights went out simultaneously. The air conditioner, which had been humming with white noise, also fell silent. 

Even if Manager Jo had secretly turned on the microphone without her knowledge, nothing would be heard from now on. 

This was one of the privileges Yoon Taeha held—specifically, an S-Class privilege. 

“Wow, impressive.” 

Cheon Geun-young expressed pure admiration. 

Yoon Taeha, momentarily setting aside her usual politeness, perched herself on the edge of the desk across from him. Overflowing with defiance, her demeanor was completely different from when she first entered. Cheon Geun-young’s eyes gleamed at the transformation. 

“Not all Espers are given this kind of authority, even with the center’s excellent benefits.” 

“We have to make a living too.” 

“And I doubt you show this side of yourself to just anyone.” 

“I only show it to people I’m threatening. You’re lucky today, Mr. Cheon.” 

Leaning back against the chair like a relaxed predator, he replied: 

“It’s an honor.” 

Why did something like this have to happen? Maybe I shouldn’t have met him after all. 

Yoon Taeha sighed openly and ran her fingers through her hair. First, she needed to figure out what kind of scheme this man was trying to pull. 

“How do you know about the disqualifying factors of the currently selected Guide? We haven’t shared the personal information of other candidates with you.” 

“It’s a secret.” 

“Did you plant an industrial spy?” 

“Isn’t it inevitable for ants to be drawn to a candy factory?” 

A candy factory? Yoon Taeha let out a hollow laugh. This man’s purpose for coming here clearly wasn’t a simple interview. 

It was suspicious from the start that Chairman Cheon’s grandson had applied to work here. 

“So how do you, Cheon Geun-young, know about the disqualifying factors that even we couldn’t find? I’m really curious. Background checks are kind of my specialty.” 

Cheon Geun-young smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes. For a moment, he looked boyishly innocent. 

“Today is for asking questions, so may I save my answers for next time?” 

“…Questions?” 

“It’s also a proposal.” 

The more they talked, the more his eyes sparkled. Was he fearless, or just lacking a sense of reality? Or both? If I were Chairman Cheon’s grandson, I wouldn’t live like this. 

“I’ll listen.”

Thinking that his privileged birth was wasted on him, Yoon Taeha tilted her chin slightly, signaling him to continue. Cheon Geun-young, as if he had been waiting for this moment, spoke.

“I have something I want to sell.”

Her eyebrows furrowed sharply at the unexpected answer. Why did he suddenly sound like a subway peddler? She carefully closed her mouth, which had instinctively started to gape open.

“Something I want to sell to you, Miss Yoon Taeha.”

“Who says I’ll buy it? I’m not interested.”

“You might change your mind once you hear what it is.”

“What could possibly—”

“The trade secrets of the Cheonhwa Group.”

His sharp reply hung in the air. Yoon Taeha silently congratulated herself for blocking all sound before this bizarre conversation began.

A third-generation chaebol heir bringing the trade secrets of his own family’s company.

And not just any chaebol—the grandson of Cheonhwa, the private military giant notorious in its field. Dangerous and expensive information was said to fill Chairman Cheon’s study.

He didn’t strike her as the type to betray his grandfather.

Yoon Taeha scrutinized Cheon Geun-young with suspicion. He met her gaze unflinchingly, as if willingly submitting himself for analysis.

“Excuse me,” she said, finally breaking her glare to state an obvious fact, her tone grounded in common sense.

“I don’t have the money to buy something like that.”

“You can’t buy it with money anyway.”

“Then what?”

“Give me the position of your Guide. I’d like to use that as the payment for the deal.”

“…Are you saying you’re willing to sell your grandfather’s confidential documents just to become my Guide? You don’t seem like the type. Quite the unfilial grandson, aren’t you?”

Even as she mocked him, Cheon Geun-young chuckled as if amused.

“Our chairman owns plenty of houses. Selling one won’t bankrupt him.”

What could he possibly be thinking? This man, speaking such outrageous words with a perfectly composed face.

Cheon Geun-young. Cheon Seong-beom’s youngest grandson.

The unfamiliar name lodged itself under her fingernail like an industrial-sized nail—not just a thorn. 

A foreboding feeling ran down her spine, telling her she would be acutely aware of his name for a very long time.

“Think about it for two days. As you said, there’s still time left.”

Cheon Geun-young stood up. Yoon Taeha checked the time. The 10-minute block was almost over. If she used this authority twice in one day, she’d have to submit an excruciatingly tedious justification report.

I should have set it for 15 minutes. Regret hit her too late.

But regret alone wouldn’t solve the problem with this civilian.

“And don’t use the currently selected Guide.”

As Cheon Geun-young approached the meeting room door, he turned back one last time.

“It’s rotten anyway.”

The meeting room, now empty, lit up again. The hum of the CCTV and air conditioning restarting felt almost taunting.

*

Secretary Kang fidgeted anxiously with the steering wheel in someone else’s company parking lot.

Our young master usually knows how to draw boundaries when dealing with people outside our circle. It’ll be fine. It has to be.

Though less than an hour had passed since Cheon Geun-young entered the building, Kang grew increasingly restless.

He knew better than anyone how reckless the youngest master’s plan was.

What if that terrifying Esper had physically threatened him? Though he wasn’t the type to just sit and take it… 

Just then, the car door clicked open. Why is he back so early? Could it be that Master Cheon… Secretary Kang was about to unleash a flood of worries when Cheon Geun-young cut him off. 

“It went well.” 

Thankfully, there were no visible bruises on his face. His tie was still neatly in place, suggesting he hadn’t even been grabbed by the collar. 

Where should I start asking? Secretary Kang awkwardly turned the ignition, and the black sedan smoothly exited the underground parking lot. 

“Did you meet with that person?” 

Cheon Geun-young, lounging in the backseat, nodded. 

“It was a face I’d never seen before. Not the person I was looking for.” 

Isn’t that a huge relief? But Kang couldn’t laugh at the joke laced with amusement. 

“Even so, it was reckless. What would you have done if the person you were actually looking for had shown up?” 

“I would’ve killed them.” 

Secretary Kang was horrified. 

“Master!” 

“It was a joke. How could I kill anyone after handing over my pistol at the entrance?” 

Suppressing the urge to bang his head against the steering wheel, Kang drove on.