I didn’t mean to imply that I was suffering from the same brand of volatile internal decay that plagued the Espers.
Rather, I couldn’t shake the distinct, physical sensation that the more frequently I dispensed my Guiding energy, the more optimized and robust my own internal pathways became.
It was highly probable that the sheer magnitude of the power anchored within this vessel was simply too cataclysmic for a baseline human container to safely process without regular circulation.
The profound sense of wrongness that had crawled down my spine during yesterday’s service was undoubtedly an extension of this reality.
Evaluating the events at the grand headquarters, there was absolutely no way this physical vessel could be categorized as a standard, run-of-the-mill Guide.
‘I have to be sitting somewhere around an S-rank classification at the very least.’
If my output sat at any lower metric, it would be mathematically impossible for the energy to produce such a violent, instantaneous stabilization effect.
I had already witnessed the raw, unvarnished reality of my output after anchoring two separate devotees in real-time; there was absolutely no way a baseline, low-grade frequency would cause an individual to completely lose their cognitive faculties like that.
Both initiates had completely severed their connection to sanity, thrashing and babbles like manic lunatics the second my skin touched theirs.
To be completely honest, the sheer volatility of their reactions had left me deeply rattled internally.
I had been entirely unsure of how to navigate a variable that explosive.
The fundamental root of the issue traced back to Yoon Seoho’s refusal to provide a proper brief before thrusting me directly before the congregation.
Then again, the man possessed an inherently arrogant, self-serving personality; it was an exercise in pure futility to expect genuine transparency or kindness from him, regardless of how meticulously he varnished his domestic facade.
‘Still, the asset yield from yesterday’s ordeal is substantial.’
Though the underlying mechanics behind why I had been dropped into the narrative of this novel remained a complete mystery, that variable didn’t particularly matter under the current circumstances.
Whatever the root cause, this fictional reality had officially solidified into my tangible, living truth, so overanalyzing the logistics of the transmission was a waste of cognitive space.
The singular reality that demanded my undivided attention was the fact that I was now a high-tier Guide, and I was permanently locked into spending the remainder of my days within this universe.
Would my prospects have been any more favorable if a different male lead had stumbled upon my body first?
Aside from Yoon Seoho, ‘The World of Despair’ featured three other central Esper protagonists, didn’t it?
First, there was Gi Junghyuk—the elite heir to a colossal conglomerate who currently double-hatted as an executive director within his father’s corporate empire.
Then there was Seok Bumjun—a ruthless construction mogul who ran a massive black-market drug trade and predatory loan-sharking syndicates under a legitimate corporate shield.
And finally, Kang Taeyoung—the ice-cold, top-tier black-ops operative working for the central government’s most restricted agency.
……Listing them out like that, it was painfully clear that every single option was a total dead end.
Regardless of whose hands I happened to fall into, navigating their specific brands of toxicity would have been an identical nightmare.
‘Just thinking about it is giving me a migraine.’
I had managed to breathe a brief sigh of relief upon discovering that I hadn’t been dropped into this world completely defenseless, but evaluating the political landscape, my position was still extraordinarily precarious.
As far as the current narrative parameters were concerned, I was the singular, exclusive Guide existing in this entire world.
While there was a minute probability that my transmigration had altered the global spawn rates to introduce other Guides, Yoon Seoho’s psychological profile strongly suggested otherwise; his frantic, possessive reaction indicated he hadn’t encountered a single entity displaying a similar frequency.
‘I honestly can’t tell if being unique in this world is a massive blessing or a total curse.’
In any supernatural setting, occupying the slot of the ‘only one’ could swing toward absolute utility or total ruin with equal velocity.
This was especially true in a universe where Espers were dropping like flies across every sector because they lacked a stabilization mechanism.
Looking at it from a strategic angle, falling into Yoon Seoho’s hands first might actually be the most optimal scenario for my survival.
If I had been unfortunate enough to be scavenged by a government-affiliated entity like Kang Taeyoung, I would have been instantly thrown into a subterranean laboratory, stripped of my garments, and spent the remainder of my days sliced open as a permanent research asset.
Compared to that nightmare, masquerading as the supreme deity of an extremist cult while utilizing my Guiding output to establish a massive network of loyal fanatics was a vastly superior strategy to preserve my long-term safety.
As for Yoon Seoho’s domestic gaslighting?
All I needed to do was mirror his expectations, putting on a flawless performance of a docile, dim-witted doll to keep him satisfied.
Because I was explicitly acting out the part of a gentle, obedient creature, even a man with a psychological profile as twisted and volatile as Yoon Seoho’s was treating me with an extraordinary degree of care.
Though his dark, dual nature occasionally leaked through the cracks of his mask, a baseline level of comfort was still being maintained—
Wait a minute.
‘Don’t tell me I’m already becoming habituated to his psychological manipulation?’
Appraising the fact that I was casually rationalizing his toxic control metrics as ‘decent’ was a glaring sign that my own sanity was starting to fray at the edges.
As a dry, mocking chuckle began to form in my chest, the sudden, distinct vibration of approaching footsteps echoed down the private corridor.
I instantly locked down my internal monologue, wiping every shred of calculation from my features until my face was a perfect canvas of blank, naive innocence.
There was only one singular individual cleared to enter this domain.
“Are you awake, Yuan?”
The heavy door swung inward, and Yoon Seoho stepped into the master suite, his eyes instantly locking onto my frame as he advanced toward the bed.
Arrayed in casual, loose-fitting loungewear, his appearance was immaculate, stripped of even a single blemish.
The soft, incredibly gentle expression resting on his features was so thoroughly disconnected from the sharp, inherently predatory contours of his physical aesthetics that it triggered an immediate wave of cognitive dissonance.
I couldn’t help but feel a profound sense of awe at the sheer, practiced fluidness with which the man maintained his artificial facade.
“Yeah.”
“Then shall we head down to the dining hall for breakfast?”
“……Are we going back to that place today?”
“Hm?”
“You know…… the blessings. You had to stop midway yesterday. The people in that room…… they looked like they were in a really significant amount of pain.”
I kept my tone deliberately soft and hesitant, yet my pupils never stopped tracking the micro-expressions flitting across his face.
He had explicitly announced to the clergy yesterday that the remaining baptisms would be deferred to today, so I was operating under the assumption that we would be returning to the grand headquarters shortly.
“Ah. Those parasites?”
“Mmmh.”
“Well, I suppose they did.”
In stark contrast to his verbal confirmation, his response was completely flat, his tone thick with a distinct wave of apathy.
It was an unexpected data point; I had assumed a return to the cathedral was a definitive lock for today, but his energy suggested otherwise.
I carefully cataloged his reaction, working frantically behind my blank expression to parse his true intent.
The memory of the split second where he had intervened to neutralize the initiate who lunged at me flashed through my mind.
The sheer efficiency of that execution had been terrifying to witness up close.
To liquefy a man’s neural pathways and drop him into a terminal coma in a single, casual instant—recalling that raw display of force re-anchored my understanding of just how cataclysmic his capabilities truly were.
He wasn’t merely limited to passive hypnosis or subtle mental suggestion; he could weaponize his telepathy to inflict massive, lethal physical trauma without batting an eye.
He certainly hadn’t been granted an S-rank classification for cosmetic purposes.
“More importantly, let’s focus on breakfast first. Our Yuan is starving, isn’t he? Right?”
Seamlessly altering the trajectory of the conversation with a fluid, practiced ease, Yoon Seoho reached down to pull my frame out of the sheets.
The physical action was inherently non-negotiable, yet the touch he applied was remarkably gentle and soft.
The moment I offered a submissive, compliant nod, a radiant smile bloomed across his face, and he casually locked his arm around my waist, pulling my torso flush against his side.
Now that he had crossed that definitive physical boundary inside the bedroom, he was dispensing casual, high-frequency skin-to-skin contact without a single shred of hesitation.
‘Then again, it’s not like the bastard ever displayed an ounce of hesitation from the very start.’
