* * *
Seo Munhyuk’s steps toward the director’s office felt light for the first time in a while.
“Hello.”
“Oh, Esper Seo Munhyuk, you’re here early,” said the secretary, who had called him earlier, with a bright smile.
“Yes, I ran over since I thought you’d be waiting.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Instead of replying, Seo Munhyuk winked.
“After verifying your identity, please wait in the lounge for a moment.”
The director’s secretary led Seo Munhyuk to the lounge with a smile.
The pad handed to him displayed the visitor registration page.
The lengthy forms and second-stage biometric authentication were a nuisance.
As he opened the lounge door, he saw Commander Kwon Gihyeon’s aide sitting upright.
Though now on escort duty, Kwon Gihyeon was once an Esper who had fought alongside Seo Munhyuk.
“Hello.”
“Long time no see?”
“I heard you returned, but I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Kwon Gihyeon, clearly bored from waiting in the lounge, stood and approached Seo Munhyuk.
“Seoul’s been a mess.”
“Ah… You mean Black Rabbit 27?”
Seo Munhyuk nodded.
The sinkholes that appeared every year were named by translating the Chinese zodiac into English and assigning numbers based on their order of appearance.
This year’s name was unusually cute.
“Why did it have to open near the VIP area? Such a hassle.”
“Exactly.”
On the day of the solar eclipse, the twenty-seventh sinkhole appeared.
Though a natural phenomenon, the chaotic times brought out shamans and cults who linked Black Rabbit 27 to the downfall of South Korea.
The other problem with Black Rabbit 27 was its location—right in the heart of Seoul, close to government offices.
Though no high-level monsters had emerged yet, mid-to-low-level monsters startled commuters, leading to the rapid integration of the Esper Center and combat units.
The reason for the sudden need for combat readiness in the once-research-focused Esper Center was clear: it was too close to government institutions and the National Assembly.
The powers-that-be didn’t want to see Espers, who could deploy in ten minutes, just sitting around playing with computers.
“How’s it, following around the old man?”
“Well, he’s highly respected.”
Both men burst out laughing. The commander was the kind of superior who could laugh at such jokes.
“Who’s inside?”
“Some regular staff member I don’t know, and oh, Ki Seungwoo went in with the director.”
“Ah, the princess?”
At Seo Munhyuk’s question, Kwon Gihyeon nodded.
Ki Seungwoo was an A-rank telepath who could only control the minds of animals, earning the nickname “princess” for his ability to manipulate pigeons and rats during their training at the Esper Center.
“Go on in.”
“Thanks, take care.”
Seo Munhyuk patted Kwon Gihyeon on the shoulder and knocked on the director’s office door.
At the command to enter, he straightened his clothes and stepped inside.
“Salute.”
“Seo Munhyuk.”
“No need for such formalities here at the center. Welcome,” said the director with a smile, contrasting sharply with the gruff commander’s tone.
Yet, despite the difference in demeanor, there was something cold about the director, just as there was a human warmth to the commander.
The tension between the two was palpable.
“You called for me?”
“Have a seat.”
The director smiled as he gestured to a chair.
Seo Munhyuk gave a small nod and sat next to the commander. He quietly observed the room.
A personal office, where much time was spent, inevitably reflected the personality and values of its occupant.
The modern, stark office had no plants or warmth, making the wooden plaque in the middle of the room seem all the more out of place.
“Do not fear sudden disaster or the ruin that overtakes the wicked.”
The phrase engraved on the plaque carried a strong religious tone.
Seo Munhyuk suddenly thought of the calligraphy scroll in the commander’s office that read, “To live is to die, to die is to live,” a gift from a friend.
The difference in their personalities, values, and work styles was clear.
“We wanted to hear the opinion of the combat unit’s representative Esper regarding the personnel changes. It’s still in the discussion phase, so there’s no need to be too concerned.”
“Understood.”
“This is Deputy Director Kim Yujin from the National Security Department’s HR division, who will be supporting the integration project. Please continue.”
Nodding, Kim Yujin pointed to the screen and continued his explanation.
“We plan to designate a period during which Espers and guides below B-rank can freely apply to either the central combat unit or the provincial security offices. Since contracts vary, this will be reviewed with the legal team.”
The presentation was already neatly organized.
The restructuring of the center’s personnel seemed almost finalized.
“Those who remain at the center and those transferred to the combat unit will be divided into teams, as shown in the following organizational chart, and deployed for field assignments.”
As Kim Yujin switched to the next slide, a chart displaying the names and ranks of Espers appeared.
Familiar names from the central combat unit showed up, mostly Espers or guides with families, who probably applied for the coveted Seoul posts.
What a cozy little family this’ll be…
Frowning, Seo Munhyuk looked at the chart and slowly spoke.
“There’s something off about this chart.”
Everyone in the room turned their attention to Seo Munhyuk.
Kim Yujin, particularly flustered, asked him,
“Esper Seo Mun…hyun?”
“Hyeok. My name ends with ‘k,’ my brother’s with ‘n.’”
At Seo Munhyuk’s clarification, the director let out an exaggerated laugh.
“Haha, your parents gave you clever names.”
“What’s your Yeongest sibling’s name?” asked the commander, aware that Seo Munhyuk had a younger sibling besides Seo Munhyun.
“That one’s different. They paid to get it named.”
“I see…”
Satisfied with the answer, the commander nodded.
“Esper Seo Munhyuk, what seems off about the chart? I don’t see any mistakes.”
Deputy Director Kim checked the chart again and looked at Seo Munhyuk.
Seo Munhyuk was listed under Team 1, directly beneath the director.
His rank was team leader, and the team included veteran A-rank Espers and guides with extensive combat experience.
“There’s no guide.”
“Team 1 has been assigned Lee Jeongin and Ha Suhyeon as guides.”
“They’re not up to my level.”
Seo Munhyuk raised his chin.
The only guide “on his level” as an S-rank Esper was Yeon Haegum.
Bored with the meeting, the commander sat up straighter as the director, noticing Kim Yujin’s hesitation, spoke instead.
“The offshore guide will participate in research focused on radiation guiding and non-contact guiding efficiency instead of practical work.”
Seo Munhyuk’s gaze returned to the organizational chart after hearing the head of the center’s words.
Due to significant budget cuts, the project team members had noticeably dwindled.
The only teams still maintaining their previous size were those focused on radiation guiding and the proactive prevention of Esper rampages.
Seo Munhyuk squinted as he read the footnote next to his twin brother Seo Munhyun’s name.
“50% Combat / 50% Research.”
It wasn’t like ordering a half-and-half dish; splitting combat and research evenly just didn’t make sense.
Seo Munhyuk inwardly clicked his tongue at this incomprehensible personnel decision. He wondered if his brother was receiving the proper treatment.
An S-class Esper should be treated accordingly.
Ever since Seo Munhyun started talking about getting married, it had been clear he wasn’t in the good graces of the head of the center, but Seo Munhyuk hadn’t realized his brother was being treated this poorly.
“With all due respect,” Seo Munhyuk said in a firm tone that didn’t seem apologetic at all.
His posture, sitting straight-backed, was that of a soldier, but there was a relaxed ease to him as well.
Ignoring the uncomfortable gazes directed at him, he continued without hesitation.
“My understanding is that the purpose of this personnel restructuring is to form an elite unit to respond preemptively and effectively to monster attacks in densely populated areas.”
“…That’s correct.”
“As you’ve seen in my records, I don’t have any guides with over a 20% compatibility rate. If the compatibility isn’t there, the rank needs to be high. Why should an S-class Esper receive guiding from an A-class guide? It’s inefficient.”
“……”
“You should assign the offshore guide under me.”
Seo Munhyuk’s request to have the offshore guide assigned under him, rather than as part of his team, caused the head of the center’s face to stiffen.
High-ranking guides and Espers were valuable marketing assets.
Just as Seo Munhyuk was the face of the combat unit, the offshore guide was the pride of the ability center.
“I agree with Esper Seo Munhyuk. It’s better from a promotional standpoint as well,” said the commander, who had remained silent until now, supporting Seo Munhyuk.
The meeting was effectively over.
“…Then, we’ll review the organizational chart again.”
“Let’s do that.”
As the meeting concluded, the commander and the head of the center signaled for everyone to leave.
“It’s been a while.”
* * *