* * *
In contrast, Lee Yeojoon was a complete mess.
He couldn’t even hold the relatively light gun for long.
His arms were weaker than Choi Yoonseo’s, and she was a woman.
So it was no surprise that he couldn’t hit any targets.
Haebom had him stationed at the far edge of the range, away from the rookies.
He wasn’t setting a good example as an existing Guide, and it was better if the others didn’t see that.
“You may have heard this during Guide training, but physical conditioning is essential. Even if you never enter a gate, it’s something you must maintain.”
“Ah, is that from your personal experience, Guide-nim?”
Haebom threw a glance at Yeojoon, who was trembling but still clinging to his pride and refusing to lower his gun, and turned back to the rookies.
Taeyoung raised his hand playfully, and Haebom’s ears turned pink at his teasing.
He didn’t say anything specific, but Haebom knew exactly what he meant.
“Focus, everyone. This isn’t real, but the training leaves a real impact on your body.”
Instead of responding to Taeyoung’s mischief, Haebom avoided his gaze.
Luckily, Taeyoung didn’t press him for a reply.
His sly grin remained, though.
As Haebom went around adjusting the rookies’ postures and helping with their aim, he once again felt it—that lingering gaze.
It kept coming back whenever he was about to forget.
Eventually, Haebom turned his head.
Clear eyes met his.
Looking at her up close, her face looked terrible.
She was already pale, but now so white you could see her veins.
She looked thinner too.
Not that he cared—just an observation.
When their eyes met, Choi Yoonseo gave him a pitiful smile.
Like some tragic heroine.
From her perspective, maybe she was the tragic heroine.
Her lover and paired Esper had tried to get guided by another man, went berserk, got downgraded, and was sent away.
Haebom didn’t know if they had broken up or not.
But if they had broken up, he would only hate them more.
Pretending to be some epic love story while so easily discarding Wonho’s life like it was nothing.
Anyway, the “lover” was gone, and the so-called “only friend” had cut ties just because his boyfriend didn’t like her.
From Haebom’s point of view, there was nothing pitiful about Choi Yoonseo.
But from her point of view, she probably thought she was the most pitiful person in the world.
“Is there a problem?”
Haebom deliberately spoke to her in a curt voice.
Choi Yoonseo flinched and shook her head slightly.
She looked every bit the tragic heroine.
“I… I’ve been doing okay. I was just wondering how you were doing, since I haven’t seen you in a while…”
She mumbled softly.
Haebom glanced toward the nearby rookies—one of them was watching their interaction with curious eyes.
But when Haebom caught his gaze, the rookie quickly looked away.
Still, he was probably eavesdropping with his ears pricked up.
“Yes, I’ve been well. You seem to shoot decently. Have you trained before?”
“…Yes, I’ve received it before. Still, it’s a relief to hear you’ve been doing well, Guide Haebom. And… um, Ho— I mean… Esper Wonho—is he doing well too?”
Haebom deliberately didn’t ask how Choi Yoonseo had been.
He simply didn’t want to talk about it.
It had been a few months already, and it wasn’t something he particularly wanted to keep lingering in his mind.
Even though Haebom hadn’t inquired, Choi Yoonseo spoke indirectly about himself—implying he hadn’t been doing well.
And on top of that, he asked after Wonho.
The way he stuttered once felt almost intentional.
When Haebom’s lips twitched slightly in response, Choi Yoonseo put on an extremely apologetic expression.
As if Haebom had done something wrong to him.
“…Yes, I’m planning to try moving the target now. You’ve all gotten used to stationary ones, right?”
“A-ah, no…!”
“Does it really move like it’s alive? It’s already scary when it just stands still…”
Haebom barely managed to answer Choi Yoonseo’s question and quickly turned his body, grinning playfully before he could say anything else.
His remark made the rookie guides groan.
The current target resembled a monster, albeit one that didn’t move.
It looked so real that when it was first shown, one guide had hiccuped while another’s legs trembled violently.
They were finally getting used to it after more than two hours of exposure, and now it was going to move?
That felt cruel, and they even complained aloud.
But Haebom didn’t entertain their complaints and walked toward the simulation equipment.
As he worked the controls, he glanced at Choi Yoonseo—only to see Lee Yeojoon beside her, gently patting her on the shoulder.
Lee Yeojoon said something, and Choi Yoonseo shook her head.
Her expression looked forlorn, which wasn’t surprising.
Lee Yeojoon seemed to glare in Haebom’s direction, but Haebom ignored him.
He wished, sincerely, that everyone would just live their own lives.
How long were they going to keep throwing dirt on his and Wonho’s lives?
With Na Hyunjoon out of the picture, Choi Yoonseo’s presence became even more irritating.
They said that after Na Hyunjoon was demoted and Wonho cut ties, most of their followers disappeared—but not Lee Yeojoon.
He had managed to survive, though he no longer seemed like a die-hard follower.
“Alright, from now on, we’ll be aiming at moving targets. No one’s perfect from the start. If you focus and shoot—one shot at a time—you’ll hit it eventually.”
Despite Haebom’s rather irresponsible words, the rookie guides and Lee Taeyoung responded with a round of grumbling.
Still, the sound of focused gunfire soon filled the room.
Even Lee Yeojoon had returned to his spot, now trembling again as he fought with his shaking arms.
Hitting a moving target turned out to be extremely difficult.
Groans of frustration echoed from all around.
And now that the familiar monster began to move and make noise, panic spread quickly.
Originally, the plan had been to gradually increase difficulty day by day.
But because of yesterday’s incident, they had lost an entire day, and now had to rush through firearms training.
The one responsible for that mess let out a startled cry and collapsed onto the floor, trembling.
“What’s going on—haah… I told you never to point your gun at a person, no matter what. Lower it like this. Even if it doesn’t affect them right now, if you shoot someone with a real special-purpose gun, they’ll die instantly.”
Approaching Lee Yeojoon, Haebom saw that the startled man had unknowingly raised his gun toward him.
Haebom gently pushed the muzzle downward and sighed.
He had warned them so many times…
He figured he’d have to report that Lee Yeojoon might not be suitable for gate duty.
At this rate, he could end up killing someone by accident.
It was always best to prevent a disaster before it happened.
At least during training, the damage was only mental—no actual lives were at risk.
When Haebom mentioned “instant death,” Lee Yeojoon visibly flinched.
“I-I said I’ll be careful! If I’m holding a real gun…”
“Yes, yes. If you start being careful now, you’ll be careful with the real thing too. But what startled you just now?”
He was starting to get used to speaking in a clipped, stern tone.
If someone like Lee Taeyoung was around or if he was in a good mood, he might slip back into his usual way of speaking.
But never in front of Lee Yeojoon.
Lee Yeojoon threw his gun carelessly to the ground and wrapped his arms around himself, trembling.
He could feel the supposedly fake monster staring right at him.
When he met its gleaming eyes, he couldn’t stay on his feet.
But if he voiced that out loud, people would probably call him a coward—or worse, say he was crazy.
So he bit his lip and stayed silent.
Haebom tilted his head, watching him.
Then he walked over to the spot where Lee Yeojoon had stood.
There was nothing strange.
It really did seem like Lee Yeojoon had just spooked himself.
But in a way, his fear wasn’t entirely unfounded.
Even though he hadn’t said a word, it was like his anxiety had summoned the reaction.
A sudden loud noise drew everyone’s attention.
But seeing Lee Yeojoon keeping his lips tightly sealed and Haebom standing there looking unfazed, the others just shook their heads and turned back to their targets.
“Hmm? What’s so strange?”
Haebom tilted his head, looking at Lee Yeojoon, who still stared at the monster with a disturbed expression.
He looked frightened… and maybe even shaken.
“…No. There’s nothing strange.”
“Alright. But if anything feels off, you must tell me.”
“I said I will! Just—stop worrying about me so much…! Sigh.”
Lee Yeojoon snapped in a shrill voice, then exhaled deeply.
Realizing he was being overly sensitive, his eyes darted away awkwardly.
Clicking his tongue in irritation, he sprang to his feet and returned to the firing line.
That flash in the monster’s eyes—he convinced himself he must’ve imagined it.
Because now, its eyes held the usual hollow look typical of fabricated creatures.
He must have just been too scared and hallucinated.
But not wanting to admit that, he bit down on his lower lip.
Once the little storm Lee Yeojoon had kicked up passed, the rest of the shooting practice thankfully went without major incident.
Haebom silently hoped they could get through the rest of the training in peace.
* * *
