* * *
Irina Sheril remembered the moment of heartbreak vividly.
The glaring red word “Incompatible” on the result form was seared into her vision.
She rubbed her sharp eyes over and over, and even flooded the research center’s phone lines demanding a recheck, but the result never changed.
Why?
That was her first thought.
‘Why? Why?’
No reasoning could help her understand.
She had loved him so sincerely—did that mean he never loved her?
But their Guiding sessions had always gone smoothly, and the result forms had always said “compatible” in green.
So how could there be any doubt?
“Weren’t we in love?”
“Irina, I think you’re misunderstanding. We’re just an Esper and a Guide. I was only doing my duty because you’re an Esper.”
“Liar! There’s no way you didn’t know how I felt! You knew how much I loved you—how can you say that? Then just date me! Let’s imprint! Let’s start over!”
“Imprinting isn’t that simple… Don’t say weird things, Irina. If we don’t get a compatible result, that’s where it ends. You need to respect the boundaries. These misunderstandings aren’t good.”
‘A misunderstanding?’
That was a misunderstanding?
‘But you were always kind to me! Was that just because I’m an Esper?’
Everything she had done, all the feelings she had held, had been real.
Yet he dismissed them as mere delusions.
How could he do that?
It felt like her entire reality had been denied—her truth reduced to ashes, turned into a heap of second-rate lies.
Her heart, so completely betrayed, couldn’t find even a shred of comfort.
And then the man met a new Esper—one with a higher compatibility score—and left.
With the Guide gone, a suppressor was placed on Irina.
She had to face the cruel truth, and it devastated her.
All she could blame was that she had been an Esper and he had been a Guide.
It wasn’t until she returned to work and reviewed the past compatibility reports that she realized—her match rate with him had never been particularly high.
She’d only ever focused on the final “compatible” result.
He never loved me.
That truth was tucked in those stacks of paper.
But separate from the realization that he hadn’t loved her, waves of resentment, jealousy, frustration, and sorrow rose uncontrollably within her.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that he had known her feelings and still chose to treat her as just an Esper.
Her tears came with bursts of fury, and the suppressor began to overheat.
‘I never needed any of this! None of it!’
To be free from the suppressor, she needed a new Guide.
And to get one, the analyzer had to declare a new compatible match.
But she was still emotionally chained to the man she had lost.
Drowning in that endless, suffocating anguish, she struggled helplessly.
Misery had sunk its claws into Irina Sheril, dragging her deeper like a swamp.
“Irina, you still don’t look well. It’s lunchtime—go get some air.”
She had been slumped over in the break room when a coworker’s voice snapped her upright.
Her boiling thoughts cooled, and she quickly returned to reality.
Though she’d officially returned from medical leave, she was only barely functioning.
And unfortunately, she hadn’t yet let go of that man.
She’d even impulsively volunteered for an upcoming Neadegu event just because she heard he might be attending.
There was nothing she could do even if they met—yet here she was, just to catch a glimpse of his face, driven by one lingering sliver of regret.
Irina Sheril found herself a little pathetic for it.
Fortunately, her colleagues had taken her unusual state into account and hadn’t pushed her to work too hard, but she still dreaded the upcoming event tomorrow.
She glanced at her reflection in a compact mirror she’d pulled out for a moment, and the sight was truly a mess.
Her short, dirty-blonde hair was tangled beyond saving, nowhere near presentable.
Her painstakingly applied mascara had smudged, giving her panda eyes, and the dark circles under them made her look utterly exhausted.
“…You think so?”
“Yeah. But how long are you going to keep this up? Until you’re bonded, it’s not uncommon for espers or guides to switch partners more than once. You need to pull yourself together and start focusing on your work.”
The veiled criticism in her colleague’s voice struck like a blade, casually slashing at her heart again.
Irina Sheril’s reaction seemed excessive to her non-esper coworkers, who simply couldn’t understand.
And so, she never even thought to look for a way to fix the pain—she was too busy enduring it.
To others, this agony was nothing more than a passing cold, while to her, it felt like poison threatening to collapse her at any moment.
That disconnect made her feel bitter and wretched.
“…I’ll step out for a bit.”
Taking her colleague’s advice, Irina left without another word.
She knew that in her current state, she was of no use anyway.
She headed to a nearby sandwich shop not far from the building.
She bought a coffee that looked bitter enough to burn a hole through her stomach and grabbed the sandwich that came with the set.
She stood dazed, staring blankly at the unwrapped sandwich, having failed to answer the cashier when asked if she wanted it packed to go.
As the door of the crowded sandwich shop swung open, Irina instinctively thought she should leave.
But not watching where she was going, she bumped into someone, and the sandwich slipped from her hands and hit the floor.
She just stared at it as if it were someone else’s problem.
Normally, she wouldn’t have dropped it at all—or even if she had, she would’ve reacted quickly.
But in her current daze, Irina Sheril simply looked at the bits of ham, cucumber, and bread scattered on the ground, thinking vaguely that she might drop the coffee too.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
Because that discarded sandwich looked no different from how she felt.
The man she’d bumped into said something, but it barely registered.
What did catch her blurry gaze was the ID badge swinging from his neck.
Central City Division 8 – Ben Plaskun.
“—Hey! Are you okay?”
A hand touched her shoulder, and only then did Irina look up, tears still streaming down her cheeks.
The cold wind tousled his soft hazelnut-colored hair, and his eyes—clear and green under the sunlight—looked warm and gentle.
The man’s overall appearance was neat, and his expression was one of confusion.
Understandable, considering all he’d done was lightly bump into someone who then suddenly started crying.
He couldn’t have known.
And truthfully, Irina had been the one not paying attention, not him.
But her tears wouldn’t stop, and she couldn’t bring herself to say she was fine.
Because nothing was fine.
She couldn’t even force the words out, so she just stood there stupidly and cried.
If the man hadn’t gently seated her and waited patiently for her to calm down, she might’ve stayed there crying until the shop closed.
He must be a good person.
That thought crossed her mind as she looked at him sitting quietly across from her, pushing a tissue box toward her.
Whenever she muttered teary apologies and nonsensical regrets, Ben Plaskun simply nodded quietly, never interrupting.
No one had ever just listened like that before, and it made Irina—uncharacteristically—say more than she meant to.
Still, it wasn’t much. Just that the man she thought loved her hadn’t loved her at all.
That he’d dismissed her love as a mere delusion.
That was all, really.
But for her, it was enough.
After her rambling ended, several silent minutes passed before Irina began to come back to herself.
Then she noticed something strange—someone had been watching them.
As an esper, she was always sensitive to people’s presence, but this was different.
A blatant stare, aimed directly at her and Ben Plaskun.
She turned her swollen eyes toward the nearby table.
“……”
Just a few steps away, a pair of deep wine-red eyes sparkled as if to say “Finally noticed me?”
The person smiled brightly.
Irina didn’t look away, and Ben Plaskun followed her gaze.
“Oops. Was I staring too much?”
A high-pitched voice rang in her ears.
The woman, draped in a brown leopard-print coat that threatened to fall off her shoulders, stood up with model-like legs and approached, taking a place between Irina and Ben.
Strands of red hair, tied up but spilling over her chest, drew everyone’s attention.
“Do you… know each other?”
“…No.”
“That’s a shame. Well, we can start now, can’t we?”
She sat herself down with an easy familiarity, like someone who had known them forever.
* * *
