100. Prelude

After finishing tidying up, he approached the air conditioner. Yoon Taeha moved to the side to give him the cool breeze. Instead of taking the vacated spot, he guided her back to her original position.

“You’re wearing gloves. Take them off.”

So that’s why she’d offered the cool spot.

Yoon Taeha’s ears turned slightly red. She felt awkward about instinctively giving up the cool spot.

“Don’t you usually handle heat well?”

She asked after leaving the shooting range. Cheon Geonyoung nodded lightly.

“Almost never. I live without air conditioning even in summer.”

“You do that in summer too?”

“And I don’t feel particularly cold in winter either. It’s always about the same.”

Hearing his response, Yoon Taeha slowly clenched and unclenched her right hand—the one that had held the gun—while waiting for the elevator.

On days when she visited Dr. Moon, her fingers would often feel stiff, as if filled with wax. Cheon Geonyoung, who had been watching her movements closely, asked,

“Is it uncomfortable?”

“I stayed in one position for too long, so this hand feels a bit warm. It doesn’t hurt.”

Cheon Geonyoung gently grabbed her empty hand. Yoon Taeha looked down at her pale hand enveloped in his. Strangely, she didn’t feel the urge to pull away.

His hands, red from repeatedly wringing out towels soaked in icy water, had once suffered for her feverish body. She knew he had gone through the tedious process multiple times—perfectly squeezing out the water, soaking the towel again, and repeating it all over.

In her fragmented memories, Cheon Geonyoung had been excessively kind. Perhaps that was why, during those dark nights when headquarters tested her, she had pathetically whined like a child.

Dealing with people like Min Cha-hoon and Dr. Moon reminded her of the lethargic days of her childhood, making her feel pitiful about herself. Whether by coincidence or not, both then and now, it was Cheon Geonyoung who had pulled her out of the pits they pushed her into.

“Does this make it cooler?”

Cheon Geonyoung performed a brief guiding session. He already seemed to know the answer but asked anyway. His dimples were just about to peek out.

She didn’t want to say it outright.

For some reason, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hearing her confirm it. Clenching her lips, she tried to evade the question, but he lightly shook her hand, urging her to respond.

Sighing as if defeated, Yoon Taeha whispered in a voice barely audible,

“It’s cool.”

The moment she finished speaking, her fingertips tingled again. The unsettling discomfort melted away like snow in the sun. Her slender neck tensed.

Just before the elevator arrived on their floor, Yoon Taeha tried to pull her hand away, anticipating others who might be inside.

Why?

Before she could explain her fidgeting, Cheon Geonyoung silently mouthed a question. Before she could answer, the elevator doors opened. It was packed with people, all seemingly getting off on this floor.

They intended to split to either side, but their clasped hands made it impossible. Standing side by side, they cleared a path for the others.

Cheon Geonyoung hid her hand behind his back. Employees who glanced at the two parted ways, heading toward their respective destinations.

It was only a dozen or so people.

Yet, the moment the elevator emptied felt unusually prolonged.

________________________________________

After losing the bet, Yoon Taeha asked the winner what he wanted. Cheon Geonyoung replied that he would think about it.

<The reward can wait.> 

His secretive proposal echoed her own past response.

Today was Friday, and both of them had earned the right to enjoy the weekend. Watching him head toward the subway station, Yoon Taeha turned around.

The first time she held hands with the man who proposed the deal was late summer.

The ginkgo trees were vivid green, like they had been painted. The pavement still radiated heat even at night, and the peculiar smell of dust from air conditioner outdoor units lingered in the air.

Under the higher, clearer sky, people hurried along, adding an extra layer to their outfits.

After buying pasta ingredients at the department store, she carried the heavy bag home.

Upon entering her apartment and hearing Jet’s greeting, she began preparing and cooking. Placing a rather appetizing pasta dish on a plate, she picked up her fork and ate alone with determination.

The taste wasn’t bad.

Looking down at her barren living room, which was incomparably desolate compared to Lee Hye-kyung and Seo Do-jin’s homes, she chewed mechanically.

But the speed at which she swallowed the pasta gradually slowed.

The pain that had momentarily retreated after receiving guiding returned with a vengeance, bringing its friends along. It felt as though the soft pasta noodles were scraping against the roof of her mouth—an irrational sensation that defied logical understanding.

Normally, she would have cleaned her plate, but today, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Clank. She placed the fork neatly on the plate and hastily reached for the pillbox she had left in plain sight. Ignoring the numerous warning labels on each bottle, she swallowed a painkiller dry.

This was a routine occurrence after visiting Dr. Moon. She had never shown it to anyone else.

Some things are meant to be shared; others aren’t.

Pain must be endured alone. The few people she could confide in led lives already overwhelmed by their struggles.

They were espers too. When their bodies were pushed to their limits, they experienced the same pain. She didn’t want to act spoiled just because she was younger.

After swallowing the pill and sitting awkwardly on the chair, Yoon Taeha suddenly stood and headed to the bathroom.

She filled the large bathtub with hot water. Her body had lost its ability to regulate temperature.

Shivering violently, she undressed. Under the bathroom light, her unusually unscarred white body emerged—a stark contrast to someone who did dangerous work. Without glancing at the mirror, she stepped into the nearly overflowing tub.

The water embraced her as if it had been waiting. Her shoulders and arms, smooth curves disappearing beneath the surface. She resurfaced only when her breathing reached its limit.

Droplets streamed endlessly down her pale cheeks. Leaning against the tub, her chest heaving, she teetered on the brink of being overwhelmed by something—pain or painful memories, she couldn’t tell.

Cupping her face with her palms, she submerged again. A fierce flame and murderous intent crawled across her skin like insects.

Even with her eyes closed, vivid memories churned in her mind.

It was the memory of the day Moon Seon-woo, her first dedicated guide, died.

________________________________________

Moon Seon-woo’s official cause of death was an accident caused by Orca’s ambush during a mission.

The mission was to safely escort a newly acquired item for Ark. On their way back to camp after securing the item, the incident occurred.

“The information has been leaked!”

Their route had been exposed to Orca.

It was a classified mission conducted in an anarchic zone, so the number of personnel deployed was minimal. Each was elite enough to be called the best, but they were no match for the monsters led by the enemy.

Screams and gunfire violently shook the air of the anarchic zone. Something brushing against her feet turned out to be a teammate she had spoken with just ten minutes earlier—now dead.

There was no time to close their eyes as they shoved people into the bulletproof vehicle while trying to break through.

At that moment, the team leader thrust an object into her hands.

“Secure the item and teleport!”

“If I leave here, you’ll all die!”

Seeing the eighteen-year-old esper screaming in desperation, the team leader brought her guide, Moon Seon-woo. He persuaded her, saying that failing to protect the item would result in greater casualties.

“If we lose this, thousands more will die! You need to make the right judgment!”

The item they were transporting was a weapon sought by one of Orca’s core executives. It had to be kept out of her hands at all costs.

After delivering the weapon to the base camp with her guide, Yoon Taeha promised to return to the field.

Draining her strength, she teleported long distances repeatedly. By the end, her vision blurred, and she moved toward the landmarks her guide pointed to.

What awaited the exhausted Yoon Taeha was a red-haired woman who had already devastated the camp.

The moment Yoon Taeha saw the sharply torn eyes, she desperately tried to hide her guide behind her.

But her guide didn’t hide. Instead, he stepped in front of the esper and stabbed her in the side with a poisoned blade.

Yoon Taeha could only collapse, unable to comprehend what was happening before her eyes.

“Here’s the item you were looking for.”

Her guide handed the box to the red-haired woman, who sat elegantly atop a crate of explosives like a queen. The woman reclaimed her spear and mocked the fallen esper.

While struggling to rise, the red-haired woman summoned snakes. Throughout the fight with her battered body, the guide observed Yoon Taeha as if she were a lab specimen.

“Should I kill her? Would that help?”

As the battle dragged on, the red-haired woman muttered something incomprehensible and detonated the nearby crates of explosives in succession.

BOOM! With a deafening roar, fiery fragments scattered everywhere. It didn’t take long for the guide’s lifeless body to roll limply toward Yoon Taeha, who was barely breathing.

When she saw his hollow, snake-skin-like eyes, she felt herself drift impossibly far from everything in the world.

Burnt and mutilated by the flames, the guide tried to say something, choking on his words. She strained to hear but could only make out the word “go…”

He died with his eyes open. The mask-like face remained as the last vivid memory.

After that, her memories began to fragment.

She vaguely remembered the team leader shouting at her upon her return. Behind him, the corpses of snakes she didn’t remember killing were piled like mountains.

“Snap out of it! You can’t give up here!”

When she opened her eyes again, she was in front of Dr. Moon. His face was expressionless, something she had never seen before.

I’m sorry, Doctor.

Her cracked lips moved soundlessly, forming no coherent words. When Dr. Moon slapped her cheek, she finally snapped to her senses. Several more sharp slaps followed, landing on her young face.

“We can’t stimulate her further! If she loses control again, we’ll all die here!”

As staff members pulled Dr. Moon away, Seo Do-jin appeared from somewhere and covered her with a blanket.

“Who gave you the right to blame her!”

Adults’ shouts, scornful gazes, voices questioning whether she should even be kept alive—it all made her wish she could vanish into dust on the spot.

For a year after the incident, Yoon Taeha wandered between underground bunkers and underwater prisons. She saw no one.

During that time, the case turned increasingly against her.