* * *
“I just have too much love in my life. Is that a crime?”
“Don’t say such disgusting things. Even after stealing everything from me—do you still feel nothing?”
The always-gentle Hoaphilen now looked sharply at Loilnia, his expression like a blade.
Loilnia, unfazed, casually tossed her empty nail polish bottle into the trash.
Admiring her perfectly polished black nails, she sneered.
“That’s right. But why should I feel anything? Your esper died because he was weak. How is that my fault? Besides, he was a low-tier, useless guide—just like you.”
Her elegant fingers—ones you’d never believe could crush a person’s spine—ran unpleasantly down the side of Hoaphilen’s face and into his hair, now streaked with gray.
Her high heels clacked with a disturbingly cheerful rhythm.
As her fingers traced the air like a dance and came to rest on the table, she licked her lips with a flash of her red tongue.
“A guide who’s lost their bonded esper is nothing but waste—unfit even for recycling.”
And it was true.
Once a guide and esper were bonded, if one died, the other couldn’t pair with anyone else.
If the survivor was an esper, the pain would be unbearable—but as a guide, Hoaphilen hadn’t suffered physically.
Still, he could never bond with another esper again.
His grip on the poetry book tightened so hard that his nails left marks on the cover.
But after a deep breath, he slipped it back into his clutch.
His face was calm again, almost identical to how it had been at the start.
“Trying to diminish me like that is pointless. The fact remains: my esper and Huiren both died because of you.”
“What are you talking about? I didn’t kill Huiren. He did that himself.”
Click—
Just as Loilnia lazily twirled a lock of her wine-red hair, the gun inside Hoaphilen’s clutch emerged and aimed directly at her.
The safety was off, the intent to fire was clear.
His stance was sharp and steady.
The shawl that had draped over his shoulders slid to the floor unnoticed—but Hoaphilen stood firm, eyes fixed on her without a flicker of doubt.
“You don’t have the right to say that, Loilnia.”
“Oh my. Right? And who exactly decides that? No one has the right to judge or command me.”
Even with the gun pointed straight at her head, Loilnia smiled just as she had before.
Hoaphilen bit his lip hard.
A gun might not be an effective weapon, but at this distance, a shot to the head—if unexpected—might end this repulsive woman once and for all.
And yet, even that tiny gap between the intent and the action—between zero and one second—was enough for an esper like her to retaliate or escape.
But Hoaphilen had drawn the gun because he could no longer suppress the fury rising inside him like fire.
“Mark my words: your arrogance will one day lead you to ruin.”
“Sorry to disappoint, Hoaphilen Legius. But maybe you should listen carefully to me instead.”
Loilnia placed a hand on the barrel aimed at her head—then gripped it tightly.
Crunch!
With a sickening crack, the gun barrel crumpled like paper.
She released it as if swatting away an insect, but even with the weapon rendered useless, Hoaphilen didn’t lower her arm.
“Your esper died because you couldn’t do anything. Same goes for your daughter.”
Though the words pierced his chest heavily, Hoapilen smiled just as usual, showing no change—just like Loilnia.
She preferred dealing with women; unlike Haimar Eilec, they weren’t so difficult.
There was no need to hide her rage, no need to speak in riddles.
She could spit out words caked with hatred without filtering a single thing.
That’s why, although Hoapilen’s words came wrapped in a pretty package, they were more like a rose with sharper thorns than ever before.
“Heh. I hope you realize you and I aren’t so different. If anything, isn’t it you who’s in trouble, being in the same position as me?”
Even if the words she hurled came back like arrows, stabbing her own heart, Hoapilen could still smile in front of this woman.
She wouldn’t let the deaths of those dear to her be reduced to meaningless ends.
Only then did the constantly smiling face of Loilnia turn cold.
The satisfaction that followed was intense—she may not have pulled the trigger, but Hoapilen truly ridiculed her.
Knock knock.
The sound of a polite knock on the wooden door broke through the icy tension between the two women.
At that cue, Loilnia stepped back a couple of paces with a wry smile.
“Director, I’ve brought your coffee.”
It was Hoapilen’s secretary, signaling the arrival of the coffee she’d craved earlier.
But instead of reaching for it, Hoapilen simply lowered the broken gun, her gaze still fixed on Loilnia.
She, enjoying the attention, perched back on the table where she’d first sat, took a tin case from her pocket, popped something in her mouth, and bit down with a sharp crunch.
“Well, let’s leave it at that. I didn’t come here today to kill you. Call it a courtesy call, if you must.”
“Director? May I come in?”
Despite the secretary’s impatient tone, neither of them hurried.
Loilnia simply closed the lid of the tin and put it back in her pocket.
Hoapilen tucked the broken pistol into her clutch.
“See you next time. Though, I doubt you’ll be in one piece then.”
Even in the face of a murder threat that fluttered in like a butterfly, she calmly clicked her clutch shut.
The last person to lose to Loilnia would be her past self.
If there was one thing Hoapilen still wished for regarding that woman, it would be this:
“Go to hell.”
Loilnia didn’t respond.
She merely waved her hand like a parting gesture, and the space around her folded in.
It was the exit of a viper.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Forgive the bluntness, but I’d appreciate a proper explanation as to why you’ve been refusing a status check since your match, Mr. Haimar. As Director of Eternita, I need something to say to Main Central, don’t I?”
Hoapilen’s voice echoed faintly in his memory.
Though she seemed to be speaking with caution, her intent was crystal clear.
“Even after the match, your number of control nodes hasn’t decreased. Naturally, I couldn’t help but draw certain conclusions.”
[You’re well aware, I’m sure, that incomplete guiding can be more harmful than helpful.]
Mixed into her precise, measured voice was a note that didn’t ring in the present—a whisper of sincerity inserted deliberately.
Like a sly old fox, she was good at hiding what she didn’t want revealed, but when it came to things she really wanted to say, she spat them out plainly, daring others to read them.
‘Incomplete guiding, huh.’
When he opened his faintly closed eyes, the passing cars smeared red and yellow specks across the window, buildings of varying heights flashing by.
He’d only looked for a second, yet every leaf on the roadside trees and the alignment of their trunks burned into his brain like a photograph.
Once or twice, it might’ve been bearable—but when every glance triggered a hypersensitive sensory overload, it became exhausting.
Clearly, his abilities had been breaching their boundaries more and more, reaching into dangerous zones without warning.
What once took only one percent effort to control now required ten, twenty—sometimes even more.
A leaky pot left unfixed kept trying to crack, and the most obvious example was when his control slipped and Ben Plaskun got hurt.
“You still have the control device I gave you, right? As long as that’s attached to your ear, Main Central is going to live in constant anxiety. And I will, too.”
That was why he had to waste time talking with the Director.
The root of the problem was undeniably the incomplete guiding.
“That’s awfully presumptuous of you.”
“If that’s how you see it, I can only say I’m disappointed.”
The more intimate he became with Ben, the stronger the refreshing sensation inside him grew—and with it, the desire for more.
Yesterday’s petting was only a temporary fix.
Without resolving the core issue, the thirst would deepen, scratching away at his already-frayed nerves.
Mentally, he was still holding it together, but his physical vessel—the container for his abilities—was already crying out, saying it couldn’t withstand this any longer.
It was obvious that, as time went on, using willpower alone to bind his body would become impossible.
Up until now, whenever he had a Guide, he’d never been interested in forming a relationship—he just wanted the guiding.
He never expected to find himself enduring this kind of craving.
It was an unforeseen complication born of the promise he made to Ben Plaskun.
* * *
