* * *
It was all a bit too much for Seo Jaewon to handle, especially with his social skills worn thin from years of being a public punching bag, crushed and dragged through the mud.
In his thirties, Min Yoomin hadn’t been like this.
He’d seemed calmer, more thoughtful…
But when the chatter showed no signs of stopping, Jaewon gave up trying to reply altogether.
He just let the words wash over him, tuning them out completely.
Yoomin didn’t seem to mind.
If anything, he looked even happier to have more chances to talk.
Still, what really nagged at Jaewon was the silent stare burning into his back from behind—Joo Youngha.
He was quiet, just as Jaewon had hoped, but the silence was almost more unsettling.
From experience, he knew this was the kind of situation where you needed to check in.
People who seemed fine could suddenly spiral, declaring a strike at a critical moment for reasons no sane person could predict—or worse, doing something completely unimaginable.
But he couldn’t be sure that would be the right call now.
More precisely, he couldn’t trust himself.
He had this gnawing feeling that if he so much as exchanged words with Youngha, he’d snap at him.
And that would be unfair to Youngha.
As he’d told himself a hundred times, the guy hadn’t actually done anything yet.
“I know, I know… but still…”
Still, the resentment boiled up uncontrollably.
After stewing in it for years, anyone would get petty.
“Get a grip, Seo Jaewon.”
This was going to be a long game.
Losing his cool would mean losing everything.
He had to keep his emotional distance and stay sharp, observing without getting drawn in.
He rolled up his sleeve, revealing his wrist.
A familiar, round, black object was strapped there.
An Esper’s watch.
The screen glittered with brightly colored vital signs.
“Oh! Isn’t that an Esper watch?”
Yoomin jumped in immediately, unable to hold back his curiosity.
“Did you use that back when you were active? You didn’t have to return it? I wanted one, but they never gave me one…”
Jaewon felt his ears about to bleed and took a small step away from him before answering.
“It’s Joo Youngha’s.”
“…What?”
Yoomin’s pupils twitched slightly.
“Don’t those show all your personal info?”
“They do. GPS logs, daily calorie intake and burn, all of it.”
“Then why are you wearing his watch…?”
“Well, because I have to monitor him, don’t I?”
Jaewon replied without even glancing at the watch.
It went without saying—your own watch was meant to be worn by you.
It tracked your vitals and location so you could manage your own body.
Handy if you needed to show a doctor or your guide.
Regardless of purpose, the information on it was personal, not something you’d casually show to others.
Same reason you wouldn’t want just anyone looking at the data on your smartwatch.
It was a privacy thing.
Sure, the data would be collected by the Dungeon Management Bureau after missions anyway, but lots of Espers still hated that part.
Yoomin, well aware of this, asked with a stunned look on his face, “Isn’t that kind of a privacy violation…?”
Jaewon answered calmly, “Youngha doesn’t care about that. I’m his guide.”
Joo Youngha’s condition is a matter of public interest.
That might sound like crossing a line—or barreling right past the DMZ—but it was the truth.
Letting an EX-rank Esper resist guiding because he didn’t want it? That alone was insane.
Even lower-ranked Espers, if they went berserk, it didn’t end with a simple “Oops, my bad.”
And with someone like Youngha?
You didn’t even want to imagine the consequences.
Forget Seoul—the entire peninsula could be wiped off the map.
That kind of disaster-level risk, and yet the Bureau couldn’t even suggest guiding without tiptoeing?
Probably because no one knew how he’d react…
And frankly, there was no way to force an EX-rank Esper to comply.
The best they could manage as a form of restraint was giving Youngha a training collar meant for rookie Espers.
Maybe they thought it’d at least let them respond quickly, since it visually displayed his energy overload levels by color.
Normally, an Esper was supposed to wear a watch in addition to the collar, but Youngha had broken his once and never bothered to request a new one.
It was clearly intentional.
When Jaewon agreed to be his guide, he had the Center reissue a new watch under Youngha’s name.
The collar alone couldn’t provide accurate data, and it was useless once Youngha went out of sight.
“Let’s see here…”
The watch showed familiar data flowing smoothly.
It synced with the chip implanted in Youngha’s body and his collar.
Aside from location—which went dark inside dungeons—Jaewon could see his energy levels, blood pressure, heart rate, and everything else.
With this, he could monitor Youngha’s condition in real time, even from a distance.
As his exclusive guide now, Youngha’s health was his responsibility.
He had to understand him more thoroughly than he had in his past life.
And it was convenient, too—if Youngha started acting weird, he could catch it early.
“Heart’s pumping fine, overall stable… Oh, except for the energy overload.”
That part was still showing yellow.
Until yesterday, it had been closer to orange.
It had improved a bit after guiding last night.
Other than that, he was in decent health.
Espers were naturally strong, and for someone who barely worked out, Youngha was surprisingly fit.
Jaewon instinctively tapped over to the activity log.
Sleep hours, activity levels—it was all there.
“Huh. Youngha slept late yesterday.”
He suddenly looked up and asked Yoomin, “Do sleep hours affect energy overload?”
Now that he thought about it, there was a lot he didn’t know.
He’d received guiding as an Esper, sure—but he’d never really thought about the principles of energy purification or what things were like from a guide’s perspective.
With a senior guide nearby, this was a good chance to ask.
Yoomin visibly panicked at the question.
“U-uh… Not sure? I never tracked Espers’ sleep before…”
“Ah, makes sense.”
Jaewon nodded in understanding.
Most Espers didn’t need monitoring.
Even C-ranks built muscle just by existing.
Add dungeon runs and constant training, and they were basically fitness freaks.
Some even showed up at the Center on their off days just to train more.
Youngha was fundamentally different.
“I’m also thinking of adjusting his diet… Wonder if that’ll affect the energy overload too. For now, I make sure he eats three meals a day, and I ask for reports if he snacks.”
“Wait, w-what?!”
Yoomin’s voice trembled.
It might sound extreme, but it wasn’t.
Espers had higher metabolisms than normal people—they needed to eat well.
But Youngha was picky.
If left alone, he’d maybe eat once a day. Maybe.
And even then, he’d just nibble on grass or strawberries or other useless things.
Said he didn’t like strong flavors or smells—like some kind of ascetic monk.
Sure, he’d always been stronger than Jaewon thanks to his insane rank, but maybe, just maybe, building up his stamina would slow down the energy overload.
That was the logic behind starting with basic nutrition.
Lost in thought, Jaewon muttered aloud, completely missing Yoomin’s look of horror.
“I can’t exactly shove a funnel into his mouth and pour it in… Seriously, why’d he have to be human? Such a hassle. If only there were esper chow or something.”
Now that he thought about it, the guy’s weight was a bit concerning too.
‘Joo Youngha, how long’s it been since you last updated your weight?’
His waist earlier looked like it could be wrapped in one hand…
Seo Jaewon, eyeing Joo Youngha’s back with clear dissatisfaction, suddenly became aware of Min Yoomin’s gaze.
“What is it?”
Gone was the friendly, interested expression from earlier.
Min Yoomin’s eyes now held a strange distance, even a hint of fear.
Seo Jaewon was used to cold, contemptuous stares.
But this was different.
This was the kind of horrified look someone gives when they’re witnessing something incomprehensible.
‘Wait a minute.’
Something clicked in Seo Jaewon’s head.
Like getting hit over the head with a realization.
This… this is the same look people give Joo Youngha.
‘Why? I don’t get it. Did I do something that weird? I didn’t, did I?’
Min Yoomin hesitated for a moment, watching Seo Jaewon cautiously before finally speaking up, carefully.
“Um… Espers have human rights too, you know… hyung.”
And with that, Seo Jaewon understood why Min Yoomin was reacting this way.
“Ah, so that’s what you’re going on about. Human rights, huh…”
Min Yoomin nodded eagerly, his smile oddly desperate.
“It’s just basic decency, right?”
“I used to believe in that kind of thing too, once.”
Seo Jaewon gave a bitter smile.
“W-what?”
Min Yoomin’s eyes widened in shock at his words.
Seo Jaewon just shrugged.
Human rights?
For Joo Youngha?
“If you try to account for that kind of stuff, there’s no way you can work with him.”
Yeah.
There was a time Seo Jaewon thought Joo Youngha deserved respect as a fellow human being.
That he shouldn’t be expected to carry the weight of everyone’s hopes just because he was strong.
But after going through thick and thin with him, Seo Jaewon had learned.
This guy wasn’t someone you could sway with respect or reason.
The only way to deal with him was through strict control and pressure.
Trying to treat him like a regular person was a one-way ticket to disaster.
“Wait—this isn’t right, is it? Isn’t that a little too far?”
Min Yoomin raised his voice, his pitch cracking slightly from the stress.
Well, it made sense.
Min Yoomin hadn’t been through the hell that was Joo Youngha. Yet.
Seo Jaewon decided to explain things nicely.
The guy seemed decent, and if he made the mistake of pitying Joo Youngha like Seo Jaewon once had, he’d only end up miserable.
“It’s not like Joo Youngha cares about other people’s rights. Honestly, I don’t think he even knows what that means.”
Even with the warning, Min Yoomin didn’t look convinced.
He opened and closed his mouth several times before turning toward HHwi Saul, as if seeking help.
“We’re not going to get in trouble for this, right? Like, dungeon harassment or something…?”
HHwi Saul just gave a friendly smile and replied:
“Nah, Youngha likes it when Jaewon pays attention to him.”
“Wha—no, what?!”
Further ahead, HHwi Sara chimed in indifferently.
“He smiles when Jaewon yells at him.”
“Do any of you even know what attention is supposed to mean?”
Min Yoomin’s voice echoed through the dungeon, drained and despondent.
‘He really didn’t need to worry. Guy’s got a softer heart than I thought.’
Seo Jaewon mused.
Despite his ruthless actions, Joo Youngha didn’t get his feelings hurt that easily.
Whether Seo Jaewon put him on a strict diet or smacked him on the head, he never seemed to take it as abuse.
He wasn’t the type to strongly feel things like hurt or resentment.
He’d whine a bit with his mouth, but it never actually bothered him.
Even when Seo Jaewon accidentally cut his arm during a mission, he didn’t mind.
Might’ve even found it amusing…
Maybe people like Seo Jaewon—or anyone else—just weren’t important enough to truly affect Youngha’s mood.
To him, none of this seemed to mean that much.
Not that he was completely emotionless, but…
Trying to read him was pointless.
His thought process wasn’t something a normal person could grasp.
And the moment you thought you’d figured him out, he’d pull something completely unexpected.
Trying to accommodate his mood was meaningless.
Just as that faint bitterness started to creep in, Joo Youngha quietly called out:
“Jaewon…”
“Hm?”
His delicate brows drooped.
His eyes shimmered more than usual, as if wet.
His finely sculpted face looked like a rain-drenched flower, all wilted and sad.
Seo Jaewon was stunned by the look of pure dejection on his face.
‘What the hell… Are you seriously upset? That’s even possible?’
Joo Youngha stepped closer without a word.
Frozen in shock, Seo Jaewon watched as that beautiful face came right up to his.
With mournful eyes, Joo Youngha asked:
“Are you close with him?”
“…What?”
* * *
