HLSEBT - 99

99. People from Another World 3

“Thank goodness. See this graph? It looked like you were about to plummet into hell just a while ago. Now, it’s climbing back up.”

“It looks like a stock chart.”

“Have you started investing recently? My team members have been going crazy over Greenbow stocks.”

The topic naturally shifted to Greenbow Pharmaceuticals. For those in the field, Greenbow was constantly generating new talking points.

“How’s it doing? I’ve seen it on the news a lot.”

“If you jump in now, you’ll get stuck at the peak. Wait.”

“What kind of new drug is it?”

“It’s a type of suppressant. Exactly what you need most.”

Suppressants were difficult to produce, which made them expensive. Since they weren’t necessary for ordinary people, their prices were set even higher.

“If they succeed, they’ll rake in the money.”

Yoon Taeha made an idle remark about how envious she was of them. Dr. Moon, who had been chatting about pharmaceutical companies, observed the esper sitting across from him and spoke.

“Is it certain that Orca distributed the amplifiers?”

“They did provide the method for making the drugs, but Principal Pyo didn’t seem to be part of Orca. He was too naive to be one of them.”

Yoon Taeha corrected him with a firm voice. Dr. Moon waved his hand dismissively, claiming he didn’t know the exact details since he was in research. Yoon Taeha simply crinkled the candy in her hand without agreeing or disagreeing.

Tick. Tick. The sound of the second hand on the clock on the desk seemed unusually loud today. Next to the clock was a framed photo of Dr. Moon, his colleagues, and a young boy. In the photo, a younger Dr. Moon stood with a stern expression, his hand resting on the boy’s shoulder.

Yoon Taeha’s gaze briefly landed on the photo before moving away. Pretending to focus on the monitor, Dr. Moon quietly observed her reaction.

The air in the office felt subtly sharper than usual.

Dr. Moon nervously spun a pen in his hand, then accidentally dropped it. “I’ll pick it up,” he said, but Yoon Taeha ignored his protests, picked up the pen, and placed it back on the desk.

“I told you I’d pick it up. Did you suddenly hit puberty or something?”

“It was closer to me.”

The atmosphere grew even more awkward. Dr. Moon glanced uneasily at the pen before bringing up Orca-related incidents again.

“Those guys are causing trouble everywhere lately. Remember the recent Protection Agency incident? They infiltrated the team tracking them and caused chaos.”

“It doesn’t seem related to this case. Did you hear anything from the Protection Agency?”

“…Hear what?”

After mentioning the upcoming shooting training, Yoon Taeha stood up. As she prepared to leave, Dr. Moon casually asked,

“You’ve been taking your medication, right? You can’t stop taking it because it tastes bad, like you used to when you were little.”

“It’s what you gave me, so of course I am.”

Yoon Taeha gave him an overly sweet smile as she grasped the doorknob and left the room.

The moment the door closed, her smile vanished completely.

She walked briskly with an icy expression that discouraged anyone from approaching her.

As Yoon Taeha turned a corner and headed toward the skybridge connecting R Building and K Building, someone called out to her in a desperate voice.

“Yoon Taeha!”

She turned reluctantly. A guide wearing a disheveled field uniform was running toward her. Despite the clear, cloudless weather, his clothes were soaking wet.

Who was he again?

While trying to recall his identity, he suddenly grabbed her wrist.

“You remember me, right?”

“Oh.”

It finally came to her. Had it been two years ago? He had been her rotation guide for a week.

A paperwork guide.

If a high-level esper’s guide position appeared vacant on paper, it could raise unnecessary questions. So, occasionally, the names of guides without partners were added to the documents as a formality. She didn’t even remember receiving radial guiding from him.

“You… you remember, right?”

Her captured wrist flapped loosely in his grip.

“Let go and say what you want.”

Though he heard her words, he tightened his hold instead. With unusual urgency, he asked,

“Don’t you need a guide?”

News travels slowly. Did he just come back from a dungeon?

Yoon Taeha twisted her wrist slightly to free herself from his grasp. The guide tried to grab her hand again with a pitiful look but failed. She stared at him, silently demanding an explanation for his actions.

“We went on missions together once. Don’t you remember?”

“Not really.”

She remembered perfectly.

He had screamed when being dragged by a mole monster, drawing the attention of nearby monsters to them.

That had been quite unsettling.

She was lost in unpleasant memories when his recollection seemed to differ from hers.

“I still vividly remember how you immediately broke through dangerous paths to help me the moment I called for help!”

The guide’s face began to flush pink.

“I… I had feelings for you. Didn’t I?”

“…”

“I got hurt trying to save you. I heard you’re not usually like that.”

Was he saying this to make her feel good?

His boldness in spouting nonsense made her miss the chance to cut him off.

“Even if I already have a guide, it doesn’t matter. Just think about it one more time. We made a good team! Maybe you were too young back then to remember…”

Before he could finish, she interrupted firmly.

“I’m not planning to change.”

“What?”

“I already have a dedicated guide.”

At that moment, water dripped heavily from the man’s clothes.

“…Not a rotation guide?”

“I have a dedicated guide, and this is unpleasant.”

The man, whose face had been flushed, stepped back with wounded eyes. He looked like he might cry if pushed any further.

“A dedicated, dedicated guide…”

“If you’re done, I’ll be going.”

With a slight nod, she turned away. As soon as she entered the skybridge, his desperate cry echoed behind her.

“No matter who your current partner is, I can do better! Come back to me anytime, okay?”

What an easily misunderstood statement.

Crossing the bridge, she sighed in relief.

It was fortunate he wasn’t here.

But as soon as she arrived at K Building and turned a corner, she ran into Cheon Geonyoung. Dressed in shooting practice gear, he appeared like a sleek black leopard—suddenly appearing, twisting its prey’s neck, and vanishing gracefully.

Fully prepared, he looked at Yoon Taeha, who was still in formal attire, and teased her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Latecomer.”

Yoon Taeha, looking apologetic, nudged him aside.

Cheon Geonyoung glanced briefly at the skybridge she had crossed but said nothing. He simply followed her willingly.

“Dr. Moon was talking about stocks today. I got caught up listening and ended up late. Sorry.”

“Is Dr. Moon your excuse?”

“It’s good to listen carefully to the information he gives. Sometimes, tidbits from people who invest seriously turn out to be real.”

Cheon Geonyoung raised an eyebrow.

She didn’t seem interested in that kind of information.

If she were someone deeply concerned with money, she would have revealed what she wanted from him by now—at least hinted at it. But her desires remained shrouded in mystery.

“So you’re leaving health matters to Dr. Moon?”

“Not entirely. I just get prescription explanations from him.”

He was certain she had spent time with Dr. Moon, exchanging awkward yet polite smiles.

Dr. Moon and Yoon Taeha.

Their relationship didn’t seem particularly comfortable.

This was Cheon Geonyoung’s conclusion after observing them. At first glance, Dr. Moon appeared to genuinely care for her—worrying about her health, calling her with a warm voice, and acting as if he knew everything about her childhood.

But the doctor reminded him of the kind doctors he encountered after his parents passed away.

Had they truly cared for him?

Her smile whenever she mentioned Dr. Moon wasn’t unfamiliar. It resembled the smile he used to give adults who were friendly but insincere during his childhood.

As they walked down the hallway together, Cheon Geonyoung guessed there were elements of their relationship he didn’t fully understand.

A brief silence enveloped the two as they arrived at the elevator.

When the doors opened, Cheon Geonyoung let her enter first. Yoon Taeha pressed the button for the floor with the shooting range.

With mechanical sounds, they descended.

“When did you and Dr. Moon first meet?”

Startled by the sudden question, she reflexively looked up. For a fleeting moment, regret for her earlier actions flickered in her eyes.

She’s uncomfortable. He noticed but didn’t withdraw the question.

“Well… when was it?”

Avoiding his persistent gaze, she trailed off as if struggling to recall.

“I don’t remember exactly. But it was before I turned fifteen. That much is probably correct.”

After vaguely summarizing the timeline, Yoon Taeha brought up a childhood shooting bet as a conversation topic. Her calm, measured tone was no different from usual.

Meanwhile, the arrival notification chimed. As they exited the elevator, Cheon Geonyoung suggested a shooting bet.

Her voice, asking, “A bet?” carried a hint of excitement. Yoon Taeha quickly excused herself, saying she’d change into her gear first, and hurried away. “Take your time!” she called back, not forgetting to remind him.

Her hair, like a gentle night sea, swayed against her back. Cheon Geonyoung didn’t quicken his pace, watching her figure grow smaller in the distance.

________________________________________

The winner of the bet was Cheon Geonyoung.

Yoon Taeha stared at the scoreboard with disbelief. Meanwhile, Cheon Geonyoung remained nonchalant, as if the outcome was obvious. He was busy organizing the bulletproof vest she had discarded.

“This can’t be right.”

“Did you really think you’d win? That’s even more embarrassing.”

Her incredulous expression prompted her to argue back. Her pronunciation was unusually deliberate.

“I’m a telekinetic esper. I’ve practiced hitting targets with objects for over ten years.”

“Do all telekinetics pick up guns at their first birthday parties?”

“What kind of parent puts a gun on their child’s ceremonial table…”

Yoon Taeha’s voice trailed off as she cooled down in front of the air conditioner. Cheon Geonyoung shrugged with an air of someone recalling some extraordinary family tradition.

“It was a toy water gun.”

She let out a short exclamation of surprise.