Seeing that his pupils were still moving—meaning he wasn’t dead—she let out a sigh of relief.
Though he was a nuisance in many ways, Cha Minjun, an A-rank Esper, was an indispensable presence in the Busan branch.
“It’ll melt with time. No need to force it.”
Wonho arrogantly lifted his chin as he spoke.
The Division Head sighed deeply, realizing he had no intention of thawing it now.
Just in case, she glanced at Haebom, but Haebom only stared up at Wonho with sparkling eyes, showing no sign of helping her.
While Wonho was talking, the Division Head noticed Haebom looking at him again.
Even the Seoul branch handled S-rank Esper Wonho with caution, but seeing him in another branch made it all the more apparent.
He had turned an A-rank Esper into an ice statue without facing any punishment, and the Division Head couldn’t even directly ask him to undo it—it left her feeling strangely unsettled.
“Then let’s address the purpose of your visit first. Since you’ve already met Guide Haebom, I’ll take you straight to the compatibility testing room. Do you need an explanation from Guide Haebom?”
“No.”
The Division Head didn’t even ask Wonho why he had frozen Cha Minjun.
The CCTV in the elevator only showed visuals, not audio.
She simply assumed Cha Minjun had messed up again.
It seemed she considered herself lucky that things had ended at this.
With a resigned expression, she looked at Wonho before shifting her gaze to Haebom.
Then, Wonho stepped between Haebom and the Division Head, answering in her place.
Haebom, having missed her chance to respond, wore an awkward expression.
“…Let’s go, then.”
As the Division Head led the way, Wonho and Haebom followed.
Wonho tightly held Haebom’s hand as they headed to the compatibility testing room.
The entire way, the Division Head tilted her head in confusion.
She had heard Haebom had only recently become a guide, so she wondered what his relationship with Wonho from the Seoul branch was.
Though she could feel the Division Head’s gaze, neither of them paid any attention.
Or rather, they were too focused on each other to notice.
‘If he had gone out, it would’ve been a disaster…’
Haebom let out a quiet sigh of relief, recalling the reason Wonho had come to Busan.
Upon hearing that an S-rank guide awakened in Busan was named “Haebom,” Wonho had immediately set off.
That meant they had been waiting to conduct a compatibility test as soon as he arrived.
It seemed they hadn’t heard about Haebom leaving earlier.
If Wonho had gone straight back to Seoul without finding him…
Well, he probably would’ve been summoned back anyway.
“You may enter this testing room. Once inside, please follow the instructions from the speaker.”
Wonho led Haebom into the room the researcher indicated.
Since registering as a guide at the Busan branch, Haebom had never been to a compatibility testing room.
When a guide registered, the system automatically ran compatibility checks using the database of Busan branch Espers with their consent.
Since it wasn’t 100% accurate, if high numbers appeared, a more precise test like this was conducted.
But in Haebom’s case, there had been no Espers with high enough compatibility to pair with him, so there had been no need for this test.
That was why he remembered his first compatibility test with Wonho.
Though this was Busan and that had been Seoul, the testing rooms looked similar.
When Haebom first registered as a guide at the Seoul branch, it had been a special case, so they had conducted the compatibility test with Wonho immediately.
The result had been 99.99%.
‘Will it be the same this time…?’
Since they had already guided once, it should have improved, not worsened—but he couldn’t help feeling uneasy.
“Huh? Why isn’t it saying anything?”
Haebom tilted his head, confused.
He had been focusing on guiding through their joined hands, but the test was taking much longer than usual.
“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on me. Hand-based guiding isn’t enough…”
Unlike Haebom, Wonho frowned and sighed.
It had already been months since he last received proper guiding, and the brief kiss in the car earlier had done little to help.
Of course, just holding Haebom’s hand was comforting, but Wonho’s wavelengths weren’t satisfied.
[…You may come out now.]
The voice from the speaker made Wonho click his tongue in annoyance—just as he was about to pull Haebom onto his lap, unable to hold back any longer.
Oblivious to Wonho’s frustration, Haebom cut off the guiding energy he had been channeling and abruptly stood up.
Though he wasn’t entirely pleased, he was glad Wonho hadn’t let go of his hand.
“Huh? W-We’re not leaving?”
“…Let’s go.”
Wonho exhaled sharply through his nose before pulling Haebom out of the testing room.
But the atmosphere outside was strange.
Everyone wore expressions of disbelief, hunched over their computers as if engrossed in something.
Haebom, who had been about to ask for the results, glanced at Wonho in confusion.
“What is it? Aren’t you going to tell us the results? Is this how the Busan branch conducts tests?”
Wonho snapped irritably.
Rumors had spread across all ability centers nationwide about how sensitive Wonho had become after months without proper guiding.
Haebom, unaware of this, could only fluster at his sharp tone.
He had always been prickly, but this was extreme…
“Ah, no! It’s just that the results…”
“What about the results? Did something unusual come up?”
Haebom’s eyes widened as the researcher hesitated. Wonho had mentioned imprinting, but what if—?
The imprint had originally been on Yoon Haebom, but now he was just Haebom.
The Administrator had said he would live as a different person.
Their souls were the same, so they were the same person—yet also not.
Was the reason his compatibility with other Espers never exceeded 50% not because of the imprint, but because he was simply a different person now?
Before the researcher could speak, a flood of worries crashed over him in that brief moment.
“00.00%.”
“Are you saying the compatibility is 0%? Is that even possible? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Ah! Not 0%—it’s 100%! A guide and an Esper’s compatibility can never be 0%. No matter how low, that’s impossible, so…”
Then just say that from the start! Haebom barely suppressed his frustration.
Unlike him, Wonho made no effort to hide his irritation.
“You could’ve just said it was 100% from the start. Why say it like that?”
Wonho demanded, glaring at the researcher.
The man flinched under his stare, explaining, “I’ve never seen a number like that before, I was thrown off…” and stole a glance at Wonho’s expression.
In the end, Haebom tightened his grip on Wonho’s hand and gave it a gentle tug.
Wonho glanced at Haebom and sighed.
Looking up at him, Haebom sent a telepathic message:
“But isn’t 100% a good thing? It was already 99.99%, and now it’s gone up by 0.01%! It’s full now, right? That has to mean something!”
Thankfully, it seemed Wonho understood.
“So, that means there’s no problem, right?”
“Ah… Well, not exactly. It’s not that there’s no problem. A 100% match rate… that’s not a number that usually appears. In fact, there’s only one situation where it does…”
Wonho’s brow twitched with irritation. His forehead veins popped as the researcher kept trailing off.
He was already frustrated enough—his body was craving a stronger guiding after tasting that addictive sweetness, and now this man couldn’t finish a sentence.
The frustration was quickly turning into real anger.
“Imprint.”
Wonho cut him off before he could fumble any further.
The researcher nodded so fast it looked like his neck might snap.
