“Yes! Right. That’s it. When the system shows 100%, it’s not actually a full percentage—it means the match rate can’t be measured anymore. That happens when an Esper and a Guide’s souls become bound through something called an ‘imprint.’ Once that happens, the match rate becomes irrelevant. That’s why it reads as 100%.”
He continued nervously, glancing between the two.
“We’re still studying how exactly imprinting occurs, but there’s one thing we do know for sure.”
Wonho tilted his head slightly, clearly not thrilled with the ongoing explanation.
Meanwhile, Haebom realized the 0.01% increase wasn’t really an increase at all.
It just couldn’t be measured anymore.
That was a bit disappointing… but maybe it was even better that their souls were now bound in a way that numbers couldn’t capture.
“What’s the one thing?”
“Guiding. Without a guiding session—specifically the highest level of guiding—the imprint can’t happen, no matter how high the compatibility is. For an imprint to form, the Guide and the Esper need to be connected in both body and mind. But even that’s no guarantee… The last imprinted pair showed up decades ago. And they only imprinted after ten years of working together…”
While they were in the lab, the researchers had been digging through records, trying to find evidence that Wonho and Haebom had ever guided together.
Naturally, there was nothing.
Haebom had only just awakened as a Guide—and in Busan no less.
There was no way he could have had a guiding session with an S-rank Esper from the Seoul branch.
It wasn’t like they’d secretly met in private either.
While Haebom was busy registering and undergoing training as a new Guide, Wonho had been deep inside the Gates on mission after mission.
The researchers in Busan didn’t have the clearance to access detailed records on someone like Wonho, but a simple news search could tell you when and where he’d entered Gates.
There wasn’t even a hint of overlap between them.
All of Haebom’s guiding sessions were documented—and ever since becoming a Guide, he’d never left the Center once.
“Alright, fine. So we’re done here, right?”
“Huh? Ah—yes, the tests are finished. But regarding the imprint, we’ll need to conduct further research—”
“Don’t bother. Just report the result upstairs and leave it at that.”
“…Sorry, what?”
Wonho’s expression darkened, and the researcher quickly nodded, not daring to argue.
He didn’t know if he should ignore it, but if he just reported the finding, the Seoul branch would likely take over.
Truthfully, it was fascinating.
An imprint forming between a Guide and Esper who had never guided together before?
The academic curiosity was burning in him—but facing off against the pressure of an S-rank Esper wasn’t something he had the guts for.
So all he could do was steal glances at Haebom, silently begging for a chance to study this phenomenon.
Wonho noticed, of course.
Stepping between Haebom and the researcher, he sent a silent but deadly glare that screamed “Don’t even think about it.”
The researcher flinched and quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in his clipboard.
“Let’s go.”
With the one-sided conversation over, Wonho led Haebom out of the lab without a second thought.
Haebom followed, wanting to ask where they were going—but then he remembered: Wonho had said home.
A smile tugged at his lips, and he couldn’t suppress it.
Before he came back to this world, the house he’d lived in—one he’d worked hard to buy—had felt strangely uncomfortable.
And this new body’s house?
He hadn’t even had time to settle in.
He’d moved straight into the Center.
The place felt more like a model home than a real one.
He hadn’t brought in any furniture or decorated it his way—probably because, deep down, he never planned to stay there long.
“The exam’s over, right, Esper Wonho?”
The Esper branch chief from Busan, who had been waiting outside, stood up from his seat the moment they stepped into the hallway.
He wasn’t expecting much—he already knew Haebom’s compatibility score.
All he was thinking was how to placate an S-rank Esper who had come all the way down for nothing.
“I’m applying for a transfer. Guide Yoon Haebom will be moved to Seoul branch. The paperwork will be handled there. That’s all.”
“Wait, what? Hold on, what—”
“You’ll understand once you see the test report.”
Wonho had no intention of explaining further.
He grabbed Haebom and walked briskly past the stunned chief, not once looking back.
The man just stood there, dumbfounded.
It wasn’t until the elevator had already descended that he snapped out of it and rushed back to the lab to find out what had just happened.
That day, chaos erupted at the Busan branch of the Ability Users Center.
Meanwhile, the man responsible—Wonho—was unbothered.
Or at least he seemed unbothered. Haebom sighed and shook his head, but didn’t try to stop him.
He also wanted to hurry back to the home they now shared.
Wonho got in the car and drove straight out of the Center parking lot without hesitation.
Immediately, his phone started ringing.
“You’re not gonna answer it? I feel like you probably should…”
“So annoying…” Wonho muttered, gripping the wheel tightly.
Haebom reached over and gently tapped the back of Wonho’s hand.
If it were anyone else, he wouldn’t worry, but this was an Esper known to fight monsters barehanded. If he gripped the wheel any harder, it might snap.
With a sigh, Wonho turned his hand over and briefly squeezed Haebom’s, then let go.
Finally, he answered the call.
― Wonho! You found your imprint Guide? Yoon Haebom, right? I told you to go down there quietly for an exam, and now look at this mess! If you’re going to cause trouble, at least pick up your damn phone! You’re bringing that Guide with you, aren’t you? You didn’t kidnap him, right? He agreed, didn’t he?”
“…It’s not a kidnapping. I am bringing him with me. And as for the whole ‘incident’… well.”
Even if it was Wonho, it couldn’t be said—not even as an empty phrase—that he didn’t cause a mess in this situation.
At the mention of the “mess,” Haebom let out a small laugh, then focused on the conversation between the two.
He was happiest to hear Wonho’s voice, but hearing Jin Seyoung’s after such a long time was also surprisingly welcome.
If it hadn’t been for Jin Seyoung when Haebom first crossed into this world, he might not have been able to adjust properly.
No—he definitely wouldn’t have been able to.
Back then, Wonho was constantly on the run.
According to Wonho, no one but him even remembered Haebom.
Haebom had suspected as much, but still, hearing himself referred to not as “Haebom” but as “that guide” dampened his mood in a way he couldn’t control.
— Sigh… Because of you, I’m going to die young. Even if your sync rate wasn’t that high, you were already set to be transferred to the Seoul branch… but there’s a procedure, you idiot…! Still, it’s a relief, I guess…
“What do you mean ‘a relief’?”
—I mean, your imprinting symptoms showed up six months ago, but that guide only awakened a few days ago. The timing doesn’t line up…
At Jin Seyoung’s words, Haebom flinched.
He had only heard about the imprinting after meeting Wonho, so the sudden topic scrambled his thoughts.
“If the timing’s off, then what? I’m saying it’s me.”
— This punk… Whatever, the important thing is that you come up here and we talk. Judging from the stabilized wave levels, looks like you were guided. Don’t cause an accident on the road.
Jin Seyoung didn’t hang up right away.
He said he’d handle the paperwork himself, as usual, but that he’d retest their matching rate once Wonho got to the center—along with further checks about the imprinting.
After thoroughly scolding Wonho, he urged him again and again to come directly to the center, even threatening him not to veer off somewhere else.
Wonho responded reasonably—until that threat, which he completely ignored.
He just told Seyoung he was driving and abruptly ended the call.
Haebom could already guess it: Wonho wasn’t going straight to the center.
