Until a moment ago, she had been calling him “Kang Haeyong” without a shred of affection, but the moment money came up, she switched to the more familiar “Haeyong-ah.”
Hearing his own name without the surname made Haeyong’s brow furrow in anger.
In this world, being born an Esper was completely random.
No one knew who would become an Esper or a Guide.
Science had researched it extensively, but no one had found an answer; it was considered the domain of God.
Therefore, this woman’s claim was false.
Even if she had given birth to him, it wasn’t because of her that he was an Esper.
If she was arguing that he should show filial piety because she raised him… well, he wasn’t so sure.
From the sound of it, she didn’t seem like the type to have raised him with enough love to earn it.
— …Mom!
— Ah, Hae-ah must be here. Do you want to talk to—no, Hae-ah needs to eat, so let’s hang up. Check your messages and get in touch.
Beep, beep, beep.
The sound of the disconnected call echoed in Haeyong’s ear.
Even though this woman wasn’t really his mother, he felt his heart drop.
It was likely a physical reaction from Kang Haeyong’s body.
Throughout the entire call, the woman—who was so worried about “Hae-ah’s” meal—never once asked if Kang Haeyong had eaten.
She didn’t ask, nor did she offer to make him anything.
This was yet another mountain Haeyong would have to climb over.
It was one mountain after another; he hadn’t even finished one before the next appeared.
With a sigh, he placed the phone back on the wireless charger.
He tried to calm his racing heart while the phone charged.
Though Haeyong had never had a family of his own, he knew what it felt like to be loved.
The director of the orphanage where he grew up had raised the children there with genuine care.
Even if it hadn’t been “perfect,” it was certainly a form of family.
This relationship—which Kang Haeyong had clearly maintained through money or some other obligation—was not family.
He didn’t know how Jang Haeyong had ended up as Kang Haeyong, but perhaps it was so he could clear all these hurdles.
Pushing aside his shaken emotions, Haeyong felt a renewed sense of will.
He took the partially charged phone back into his room.
Fortunately, there was no passcode on the device.
Remembering the notifications from earlier, he checked his messages.
“Haa… this is insane.”
Whether that money was actually going toward an exhibition or not was none of Haeyong’s business, but he knew it wasn’t an amount one should ask of a son without even checking if he was eating.
Looking back through the history, the majority of their conversation consisted of one-sided texts demanding money.
Kang Haeyong’s only replies were “Okay” or “I’ve sent it.”
Whenever Kang Haeyong sent money, there wasn’t even a reply. He couldn’t help but sigh.
‘No wonder this kid turned bitter and decided to destroy the world… wait, should I just destroy this shitty world instead?’
Haeyong knew how the world would end.
He wondered if he could pull it off now, especially since they didn’t even have that Guide yet.
He lost track of how many times he’d thought about destroying the world today.
But since doing so would mean burning this body along with it, he decided to put that thought aside for now.
Whether as Kang Haeyong or Jang Haeyong, he wanted to live.
“Wow. The amount they’re asking for… ugh… how many zeros is that…”
The next thing that fueled his resolve was the banking app.
As soon as he logged in, he saw the deposit from this morning.
It looked to be about five times what he used to earn in a month at his old job.
‘Earning this much from a single Yellow-rank Gate…’
There was even a separate base salary in the history.
However, there was almost nothing left in the account besides today’s deposit.
Despite staying with the Center and enduring this treatment for three years, almost all the money had been transferred to one person:
[Choi Misook]
He didn’t recognize the name, but he knew exactly who she was.
It had to be the person who gave birth to Kang Haeyong—the woman who had just called.
Naturally, Haeyong had no intention of giving her a single cent.
Even if she had raised him with love, the amount he’d sent over the last three years was more than enough to fulfill any filial duty.
He was a total pushover. An outcast and a pushover… a soft groan escaped him.
Of course, Haeyong himself had just walked out of his job because of bullying, but that was only after he’d called out his boss’s unfairness.
‘Maybe it’s a personality issue… ugh, maybe I do have a personality problem.’
Even his friend had told him to stop picking fights.
‘Anyway!’
He told himself he had a friend, so his personality couldn’t be that bad.
Now that he had secured the funds, he thought about his next move.
First, he had to go to the Center.
Kang Haeyong apparently didn’t even know the basics of contracts, as there wasn’t a copy to be found in the room or on the phone.
He wouldn’t be able to see it unless he went to the Center in person.
He checked his location on a map app.
This, too, was remarkably similar to the Seoul he knew.
It was both fascinating and unsettling.
“Ah, the Center is here.”
He had assumed the Center might be hidden like a military base, but it was situated right in the middle of Seoul.
It wasn’t even that far from his current location.
‘I guess it would be a hassle for them to live far away every time they had to go.’
It wasn’t like Lee Seungmin was going to drive him every time.
Haeyong changed into a clean uniform to head to the Center.
He shoved the tattered one into a corner of the room.
He’d figure out what to do with it later.
He slowly opened the door and peeked out, feeling a bit like a stray cat.
Even though he knew no one was there, he stayed alert.
After all, Lee Seungmin had teleportation powers; he could appear anywhere at any time.
Even if he didn’t, someone else could barge in at any moment.
He couldn’t help but be nervous.
It was only when he had opened the front door and stepped out that he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
“Ah…! The door lock!”
The moment he turned around, he heard the click of the door closing followed by a digital beep. Haeyong’s eyes widened in panic.
“No…!”
He grabbed the handle of the already closed door, but shouting didn’t change anything.
He gnashed his teeth at the fact that he was so desperate to get back into this dump of a house.
For a fleeting moment, he wondered if he should just use his money to stay somewhere else.
But that would also be a problem.
After checking the contract, his next task was to gather evidence of the abuse he’d suffered.
In the novel, no one besides the protagonist Guide ever found out about the treatment Kang Haeyong endured.
If an Esper was being treated like this, there was no way a Guide—who was no different from an ordinary person except for their energy—could win against them.
There was also a specific reason why the protagonist and Kang Haeyong were forced into those positions.
But that wasn’t important right now.
What mattered was that the door was shut, and Haeyong couldn’t get back in.
“Ah…! What is it? It can be opened with a fingerprint. I hope mine is registered.”
His worry proved unnecessary as the lock was indeed a fingerprint model.
When he tentatively placed his finger on the sensor, it let out a chirp and unlocked.
He felt his ears flush with embarrassment, realizing he’d been making a scene all by himself.
“Ahem.”
Even though no one was around, he felt foolish, so he shut the door again and turned away.
He checked his phone and headed toward the Center.
